The Pelican and his Knave
by Nazareth Rose
Summary: In the Gaster household, trouble is brewing on all sides. Sans and Papyrus are struggling with the troubles of adolescence. The hateful human world of Massachusetts, United States is leeching more and more on monsters, discriminating without mercy, threatening to take the entire species' culture and livelihoods. And a peculiar book surfaces, written by Dr. Gaster... "Deltarune".
1. Chapter 1

THE JUNIOR YEAR JOURNAL OF SANSONE-MERRYWEATHER GASTER

Entry #1

Sans (ain't no way i'm writing "Sansone-Merryweather Gaster" on paper unless i have to, 'kay?)

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

8 October 2014

*ah, man.

*so my teacher, mr. moran (you probably already know that), wanted us to become "full-fledged students, all ready for the working world". so he didn't give us a lesson on paying taxes. didn't give us job shadowing or a book to read about taxes or job shadowing. he handed us this journal. i have no idea why. but he wants us to write at least 2,500 words per entry. thank the lord it ain't 2,500 words every day. i'd hate to write that.

*he's givin' us prompts an' all that, but to be honest, i've been in too many honors english classes, an' i know how this goes. just a five-second glance at our paper with phenomenal 20/80 vision (mine isn't that better) and i'm good. so i'm just gonna write whatever pops to mind. because i have to get 2,500 words out, that's why. whether or not you enjoy it is up to you.

*but i'd appreciate it if you do.

*i need the grade.

*i wanna get into a college someday.

*woah, woah, i know. "not harvard?" people ask. "not yale?" people ask. "not mit?" (okay, i might do mit. might. bet you read that wrong.) yep. just a college. for someone with my… um… situation, that's big.

*and… you'll see why later, i guess.

*...

*this is gonna be… a little weird, okay?

*this whole thing.

*so settle down, i guess. get comfy. get your big gulps from 7-eleven (yes, my family knows what these are now), stretch out all your bones from skull to phalanges, do whatever you need to do. because this is gonna be a long, long story. and i mean a long one. one that'll involve a lot of drama, tears, and all the other angst i'm sure you're tired of. stuff like burnt spaghetti, forgetting to teleport in time and falling all the way down the stairs, and discovering that my dad is acting a lot more like a teenager than i already thought he was. oh yeah, there'll also be a few funnies so we don't all go bonkers.

*but that's me. that's my story. that's how it is.

*ah, jeez. this sounds so goddang narcissistic. i don't think before i talk, i know.

*i'll try not to butt in too much, y'know? i tend to be overblown. i have a lot to say, but i kinda tend to forget about other people have in their lives. part of being a judge, i guess. you gotta be judgemental sometimes.

*but oh well. here we go.

*i'm gonna burn in hell for this.

*so it's six o'clock in the mornin'. monday mornin', of all times. i mean, why start anywhere else? the teacher gave me this thing so i could jot stuff down, i guess. he said to "have one entry by first period on monday, and- get this STUPID plaid whoopie cushion off of my chair!" even though i hate plaid.

*we live in this little town smack dab in the middle of a state called "massachusetts". it's really, really close to something called the "appalachian range" that mt. ebott was part of.

*bear with me with all these quotations here, it's only been 'bout a month since we moved up here from the mountain.

*it's super nice. lots of parks, lots of restaurants, lots of charming little places you can play chess in, lots of open spaces, wide open to dunk-

*cookies.

*in… milk.

*from walmart.

*and the cookies are also from walmart.

*ah, jeez.

*frisk isn't the best kid. i mean, the reset button is still hovering over me, ready to drown out everything i've ever wanted. but...I guess my bro's right. they could be a better person. if they just tried.

*if they just tried.

*heh...guess they have my attitude, then.

*old ladies call our town "quaint", and kids call it "rednecky" even though we're smack dab in the north, where there's a heckton of snow. even though it's october, an' just the beginning of october, i'm hoping to god it ain't a snow day, because that would cause my brain to explode because of how snowdin looks at the beginning of the resets i hate resets i hate resets i hate resets i hate them i hate them ihatethemIHATETHEM, and i'd probably be crying on the floor in front of my dad and bro. which would not be good.

*so i open the window. it ain't a snow day. thank you so much, god. i guess.

*i try not to look at mirrors. y'know? i mean, most of the time i can't. too short to see anything other than the top of my skull when i try. and i guess that's good. i don't like to look at myself. brings too much narcissism. but i have to sometimes when i'm passing by 'em, and i sometimes look at them and notice how far my eyebags stretch. that's what gets me to look away.

*dad says i need to start drinking coffee. But he buys a new mug every month, without fail.

* his eyebags are longer.

*so i walk outta the room. i mean, i've gotta.

*"hey dad."

*"HELLO, SON. HOW WAS YOUR REST THE PREVIOUS NIGHT?"

*scientists can be so smart, but so, so, _so_ adorably out of touch. at least my dad is.

*by the way, mr. moran, don't worry. his voice ain't that loud, teach. really. he's just kinda louder than me. louder than some of the other kids at school i chill with. then again, i chill with some pretty quiet people.

*"pretty good, dad."

*"THERE ARE COUNTLESS AMOUNTS OF PEOPLE AT MY WORKPLACE THAT WOULD LIKE THAT. WHAT'S THE SECRET?"

*i chuckle. i do that a lot.

*"nothin'... nothin' really, dad."

*jeez.

*and i don't even know i'm lyin' until i catch a glance of my four foot three self in the tv screen an' realize i can see the eyebags all the way from over here.

*nothin' really. welp.

*i move away from my dad, take a bowl of cereal, an' i can't help but smile a little as the buses go right by. right by, an' they've been doing it since i was asleep. what a way to avoid the kids at the bus stop, amiright?

*oh, wait.

*i've gotta tell you about it later (should mr. moran even have the time to read this.)

*i head off to brush my teeth. god, it hurts. and it has to be mechanical. i gotta sort of bite down on the toothbrush just so i don't yell and wake up my bro sleepin' in the room right next to me. there's this stupid thing i apparently have that makes me… well… short. and makes a lot of excuses as to why my bones are so messed up.

*don't worry, it's not a super horrible terminal condition that anyone has to worry about. it's just...annoying sometimes. like allergies. nobody freaks over allergies.

*it's done.

*what else is there to say?

*so i finish up, open the door next to me, an' the little guitar he has in the corner is still in just the right place for me to stare at every time i go in. every mornin'. layin' on the bed is the one person who keeps me goin'. or at least the one who keeps me goin' the most.

*"hey, pap. just goin' off to school. wanted to say-"

*one of his eyes pops right open, just like the opening of a soda can.

*heheh.

*i love my bro.

*"GOODBYE, BROTHER. HA! IT APPEARS AS IF I'VE BEATEN YOU TO THE PUNCH WITH THIS ONE!"

*yeah. i know. i'm pretty quiet. if my bro can be louder than me, then i pretty much can't be as loud as anyone, y'know?

*"heh heh, looks like it, bro. welp, seeya."

*so i snap my fingers.

*and i'm at school.

*i know. it's quick. which is why i have to do it somewhere quiet. somewhere where there's not a lot of people. because a lot of people think of me as weird. super weird. weird enough to stuff my locker enough with tshirts to jam it. not like i needed that locker anyway. teleporting sure won't help out my "weird" reputation. but i think they're kinda weird too. they pahk their cahs in the pahking laht, and then they wahlk to school, hoping to get into hahvahd. all day they're talkin' like that, and here am i.

*alright.

*i know i might be mean.

*but i don't mean to be, y'know? i've just met these people.

*and besides, lots of people say i have some sort of weird british-irish-french-european accent, but then again, that's where the people who forced us down the mountain in the first place came from all the way back in those medieval times. yeah, i know. sheesh. that's why i have to go someplace quiet.

*and that's why i'm on the school roof.

*oh, calm down. the giant stain of god-knows-what has been up here next to me since my friends' dads went to this school, and the door has enough rust on it for lightning mcqueen to fanboy over it and advertise one of his "rust-EZE!" commercials. i'm fine.

*i like to sit here sometimes. even though class is in fifteen or so minutes, that's still fifteen or so minutes i can get up here. to get away from it. to say, "hey, god. or ancestors. or zeus. or anyone from a percy jackson book. whoever's there. it's me again. ya boi. thanks again for letting me, um, go forwards, y'know?

*" god, zeus, whatever... it's not often i have a reset this unique. with dad in the mix and me livin' to go to school, maybe college? 'preciate it. really. i do."

* it makes me feel ridiculous. i mean, frisk's the one that stopped it. i should be thanking 'em. but it's not like a big ol' junior like me can go all swat on a poor little fourth-grader every morning.

*so i just sit here.

*and… not be grateful.

*i mean… i don't want to butt in, but…isn't it okay to not feel grateful sometimes?

*you'll know why later, mr. moran.  
*my dad has always said to be grateful, always said to point out all of the things that went right over the dinner table an' all that. but aren't there some reasons not to be grateful? at least a little?

*...i dunno.

*like I said, you might find out why later.

* i don't want to depress anyone any more than they are. i mean, i'm a comedian. i can't be like that.

*...

*ah, c'mon, me. i have to stop being lazy.

*time for school, i guess.

*so i hop off the roof an' i'm striding around the school, heading towards the three trailers in the back, thinking, "hey, today just might be a good day today!" because thank god i didn't wake up and the next day was a reset, taking me back to stupid september 25. y'know what i'm saying? and besides, this is my history class, and my history class is amazing. you have anna. no, she's not my girlfriend.

*psychos.

*she used to live in snowdin, right near me, where they ran a fancy little hotel that forgets to leave little mints under the pillow but makes up for it with its nice warm fireplace. y'know her? yeah, the bunny. yeah, that's her. yeah, she has a name.

*anyway…

*anna is whip-smart. thinks like i do. guess that makes me whip- smart, but, heh, i'm an idiot for being as lazy as i am. she takes the history papers the teachers give to us with a big fat giant grain of salt and researches in her free time (which is a practice i've kinda copied off of her. whoops.).

*other than anna, though, you have a few human kids. almost all juniors like me, but a few college kids comin' over from boston with their pahked cahs I don't have to worry about because of my stupid teleporting. kids i know, but not well. i mean, i've partnered with them once or twice this year already. it's not a big class. you have sandra and leon and lisa and jeanette and brett and lindsay and georgia and molly and rex and claire and… y' get the picture. lots i know. not a lot of friends. done. over with.

*so i'm walkin' in the door, the path kinda empty. actually, a lot empty. try "no kids on it" empty. i'm thinkin' a lot of these kids go to the bathroom whenever we have class (an' i may have waltzed in the bathroom once or twice with fifteen beady eyes staring at me from my class).

*but there's somethin' different.

*there's a poster on the wall.

*all in red.

*my history teacher, mr. gray, never puts anything in red. too off-putting, he says.

*and it says, "FOLLOWING A NEW IMPLEMENTATION STARTING ON THE 6TH OF OCTOBER, ALL MONSTERS IN NINTH TO TWELFTH GRADE IN EBOTT HIGH SCHOOL SHALL BE PARTITIONED FROM THE REMAINDER OF THE STUDENTS IN THE ACCOMODATIONS THE EBOTT HIGH SCHOOL TRAILERS PROVIDE DURING ALL HOURS OF CLASS TIME UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."

*signed by the Human Security Organization.

*in short?

*without teachers...

*it's just anna and i here.

*but another look to the right brings me to the Flood, all janpacking into the other trailers. the Flood is basically what the humans of the school call monsters. somethin' about us "flooding into society and stealing jobs from the economy, flooding everything we hold dear."

*but hey. cool name.

*there's about one hundred or so kids here who are Flood members, enough to fill up three whole classrooms to the brim. four monsters here, too, who are considered teachers and honorary Flood members, but i didn't hear anything about the new implementation affecting them at all. same thing with them. a lot of them know me, only a few are friends. that simple. there are a few i want to say hi to, like faun or Nacarat. but something inside of me kinda...stops me.

*so i trudge in.

*anna's crying.

*she never cries.

* "I've saw this coming, Sans, saw it coming for such a long time, it all started when we came up here, and everyone just started treating us like we were just dirt and now we can't even be together at school and why did we ever come up here and…"

*ah, sheesh. i'm not a therapist, y'know? i mean, being with alphs taught me one or two things, but i'm nowhere near close to handling this. she's my friend (again, not my girlfriend ya freaks), but while she has all of her other therapist-y friends, i'm the suckiest one.

*"s'okay. we'll all handle this for sure. we just gotta, y'know, tough it out. maybe tell someone about it. s'okay."

*"It's not. It's not okay, Sans, just look at that sign and tell me it is."

*for a minute… we just sit there.

*and sit there.

*and… not be grateful.

*y'know?


	2. Chapter 2

Entry #2  
Sans (still not Sansone-Merryweather Gaster, wouldn't y'know)  
Mr. Maron's Honors English 11-4  
9 October 2014 (the day i made this entry, not the day in the entry)

*so a few minutes pass by. me just standin' there, the stupid red paper flyin' in the wind. i'm kinda hopin' it flies off. i don't try to comfort anna, seeing how blatantly successful that was last time. anna spends a few minutes tryin' to call some of her friends, but nothin' seems to work. signal is dead.  
*heh. figures. that happens in the trailers.  
*maybe that's why-  
*there's a little noise comin' from the speakers, an' the speaker announces everythin' word by word, an' one of the class' lights flicker at the amount of kids that have to get up. i don't hear anythin'. just anna cryin' a bit.  
*but the kids start getting louder an' louder an'...  
*yeah. y'know the drill.  
*the door opens, an' in comes alla these flood kids, an' the floodgates open, so to speak. of course, all of them come rushin' in. half of 'em go right to anna.  
*me. "guys, give her space, give her space!"  
*i manage to take it down to about a fourth of the kids that come in, but it's a heckuva lot better than it was before.  
*it's a hodgepodge of kids here. not just juniors like me, but all across different grades. heck, it's all the monsters in the school, so the trailer is pretty much filled to the brim. an' this is just the overflow. all of these kids are actually supposed to be back in the other trailers. so how they'll get their lessons done, i don't know. i don't know.  
*so you have the kids at the back who love to hate pretty much everything they see, an' there's this little part of me, as much as i just want to drive it away, that wants to join them.  
*but, heh, i'm a comedian.  
*i can't do that. besides, that'd be too emo of me.  
*other than that, you have the kids who love their cellphones more than they love their own parents. then you have the artists (if i drew a self portrait, it would look like an eight year old on bath salts drew it), who love their drawing tablets more than they love their own parents. then you have the nerds, the hardcore nerds, even nerdier than a fuddy duddy like i can ever hope to be, who love their computers more than their own parents.  
*god, it's turning into a best buy here.  
*then you have the kids whose pride an' joy is basketball, like the entire sport is their kid. then you have the kids who can't really fit in with anyone an' created their own thing like that.  
*but then you have the kids scattered a bit to the right. the low-key nerds, who think their brains aren't really a thing to show off but a thing to try their best with. so i can dig that. i can dig that. they're faun an' nacarat, the two monsters in this place i know the most. heck, they both used to live with me back in snowdin.  
*but the whole thing seems kinda...dim? depressed? i dunno. but it seems like everything they were sayin', everything that was makin' them all bubbly like the movies show high-schoolers, everythin' that had them talkin' about the latest apps or movies or sports scores or whatever kinda thing they wanted…  
*they all kinda stopped.  
*one kid in the back, a little troublemaker that's not much taller than me (and that's not much at all, i'm barely over four oh) starts to say some really mean things about humans. even cusses them out. an' for a sec, i don't blame him. i mean, frisk wasn't the one who did this. they aren't old enough.  
*anna looks calm enough, what with her therapist-y sort of troupe surroundin' her an' all, so i heft my way back to the back of the room with nacarat an' faun. an' one of the kids, one that's basketball- obsessed, the type of kid the school loves an' the type of kid the school loves to publicize, heads towards the door to keep an eye out for our history teacher. he kinda looks like a bouncer, all spread-eagle an' ready to fight, all at the same time.  
*nacarat leans a bit. does a once-over on one of the windows, just to make sure there aren't any teachers comin' to hear us trash-talkin' humans. even though we're nowhere near close to the crap they say about us on the daily. stuff like "skinny" for us skeletons an' "mutt" for the goats. in fact, they use "mutt" for pretty much everythin'. some other hearty names include "rainbow babies", "freakies", an' other words i can't say in a school journal.  
*nacarat. "Coast looks clear."  
*faun. "Well, of course, Nacarat."  
*she kinda fans her little scarf like it has a bit of dirt on it. as if she even dared to be, y'know, that imperfect.  
*faun. "Class doesn't even start for the next two minutes."  
*nacarat. "Two minutes until the teachers come."  
*me. "an' two minutes 'till we have our very first class without a single human in sight. least i won't get egged so much by them i can start cookin' omelets, amiright?" i make sure to smile just in case they get the wrong idea an' think i'm mopin'. an' since that smile is there a lot, there's pretty much no way they will.  
*they laugh a bit. almost like they forgot what happened for a second, which is kinda the point. almost makes me want to joke some more. but they kinda stop talkin' after that, so i make sure to kinda stop' talkin', too.  
*nacarat. "But still, guys. This sucks."  
*faun. "Yeah, tell me about it."  
*so we keep on standin' there for the next two minutes, a full one hundred an' twenty seconds. an' we keep on standin' there. i kinda expect a bunch of other conversations to start startin' an' stoppin', a big huge mumble, but they never do.  
*an' we keep on not bein' grateful. Except for, y'know, the eggin' part.  
*because even though we saw this all comin', saw it comin' from a mile away, ready to speed into our little group of trailers like a tornado in a… well… trailer park… it still hits us just as fast and just as furious as a tornado would have.  
*look. i'm not tryin' to be overcomplainin' here like some monsters i know are. i'm not tryin' to be like them at all. i'm just tryin' to keep on goin', an' tryin' to keep on goin' as much as i can. for this journal-thing, i'm just tryin' to tell what's goin' on.  
*you know what i'm sayin'?  
*nacarat does another once-over at the window. just to make sure it isn't too awkward. but i'm not too sure if it's "awkward" or "somber" that he's goin' for. come to think of it, i'm not too sure if this is true for anyone else, either. even my judge-y shtuff is starting to get discombobulated.  
*anyway, so nacarat does another once-over at the window. an' with another second, faun yells, "Guys, guys, bail out! It's Mr. Hunt!" an' the kids know better than to not sprint over to the other trailer, an' it's just me an' anna again.  
*oh, yeah. she's furious.  
*so i go over there and start to poke her a bit, start off with a little "c'mon, c'mon, anna, the teacher's coming, y'know how much he…" an' i just trail off right there because i know if i go any more, then anna will start to scream at me at how much i need to stand up to 'im an' ask me "What good are your bones if you're not going to use them, damn it!" even though i've told her that every time i use 'em, it hurtsbeyondBELIEF, an' she's not change tone when the teacher comes in.  
*so i keep on sittin' there, keep on tryin' to tell her somethin', but then the door creaks open.  
*mr. hunt.  
*look, mr. maron. i know i'm writing this for your english class an' all, but on the off chance that you're readin' offa this instead of skimmin' everyone's papers an' just glancin' over mine, i want you to know this. i don't wanna trash talk him. but, y'know, sometimes people get a little extreme. kinda how like you can't help but laugh at a guy who falls on screen. except this ain't funny. not at all. not at all.  
*mr. hunt is a human, as rude as it sounds to say it. look, i've got nothin' against humans, but mr. hunt is a pretty good example of the bottom of the barrel when it comes to 'em. he has the long, tea-colored ponytail, flannel, kinda looks british if it weren't for the chest hairs and the bottom of his gut always pokin' out from his shirts.  
*an' whenever he talks, his voice gets so loud his face turns into a tomato. if it were filled up with air and hooked up to a bike pump for even more air and then had justin beiber's "baby" blasted into it. an' speakin' of his voice, he loves to cuss. now, if you've been reading, mr. moran (you probably haven't), you probably know that i'm a guy that's not accustomed to cussin'. at least in a school journal, that is. that might land me in a lot of trouble. but seriously, in the real school world, if you line me up with a bunch of other juniors, not only will i be shorter than them (BY A LOT), let's just say that the taller they get, the more they curse.  
*oh, yeah. back to mr. hunt.  
*so mr. hunt gets his hammy hands on the door and bites on a piece of beef jerky he probably stole from the ag department, right? an' he slams the door, an' anna looks at him like HE'S a fresh slice of beef jerky, an' mr. hunt looks at her like she's a piece of, well, rabbit meat. neither of them know when to back down, really.  
*so i guess i gotta not back down, either. at least now now.  
*"hey. hunter." my little nickname for him. anna calls him fred, but i'm not too sure if i want to branch off that far yet.  
*mr. hunt. "Whaddya want, ya no-good skinny?"  
*haha. very funny. we're skeletons, so we have to be skinny. hilarious. hilarious enough for you humies to be using it for skeletons since we came up the mountain. i'm a comedian, so i guess you're a comedian too.  
*anna looks hopping mad. but i just stare right back.  
*"how are you likin' the new rule? makes you feel good, don't it?"  
*mr. hunt. "You're damn rightit makes me feel good, skinny. Y'all hafta get out of everyone else's hair from now on during class. And YA…"  
*anna's nose twitches a little while mr. hunt stares at her, but she tries to hide it. heh. kinda reminds me of, well, me.  
*"YA haven't noticed what we have outside for a nice lil' bathroom, haven't ya? A urinal. Just for ya, sweetheart."  
*anna's mouth is a little open, like she wants to say somethin'. i know the rules. i've been in too many chess games with pap to not know to be one step ahead of the other guy. an' i know what she's gonna say this time. "Well, sunshine, tough luck. Nothing in that red letter outside said anything about during lunchtime."  
*but she does say something. heh. guess i have to play chess a bit more often.  
*"Haven't you thought about not bragging and, you know, teaching history? Maybe it's in your job description."  
*he darts his eyes to the corner to a big, fat security camera with big, fat letters spellin' "HUMAN SECURITY ORGANIZATION".  
*mr. hunt. "Fine, girl. Fine. But we ain't done. Not by a long shot."  
*welp, wouldn't you know it. all mr. hunt does is flip on some sort of movie about the three branches of government. nothin' i didn't hafta learn before in order to pass the "human-mutual citizenship tests" in order to be in this school. after about five minutes, mr. hunt passes out on the chair and starts snorin' his big beer belly snore, an' anna wastes no time flippin' out her computer an' reserachin' for herself, an' every time there's that little pause in between the whistle that ends mr. hunt's snore an' the snorting sound that starts it, i hear anna mutterin' somethin' under her breath, somethin' angry. so i try and teleport back there, hopin' to god she didn't see me leave from the chair in front of her, an' notice she's researchin' the human-monster war, gettin' frustrated because the school blocked almost everythin' she looks at.  
*after about five minutes of goin' through page after page of this bull, she mutters a little, "If you're going to teleport, Sans, then please, please teleport the both of us out of here."  
*look. i'm a judge. i have a special knack for tellin' if people are jokin' or not. heck, one of my jobs is to tell jokes an' then act like i'm serious, that i'm just jokin'. i even do it in front of paps all of the time. an' judgin' by the the little mutterin' she's doin', it's not a joke. not at all.  
*which is why i teleport straight into the hallway with the girl's bathrooms.  
*Anna. "Goddammit, Sans."  
*she kinda punches me a little, an' i pretend to be all hurt an' chucklin', when really, i'm lookin' to the left an' the right, puttin' up my hood even though the school tells us from day one that "ABSOLUTELY NO HOODS ARE TO BE WORN OVER STUDENTS' HEADS INDOORS." but, hey, it's a little better for 'em thinkin' i'm a hoodlum than a… skinny, amiright?  
*so after a few minutes, we both go back inside, an' just as i thought, hunter is still nappin' his little nap, an' the video is still playin'.  
*me. "hey, wanna slip off to the cafeteria? have a hotdog, maybe?"  
*another playful little punch. She laughs a little, keepin' it quiet so hunter doesn't wake up. "No, what do you think? I'm not going to skip class just for that. Maybe if we went in there and picked out the differences between human and monster education at this point… maybe… maybe…"  
*she settles back down to her computer. heh.  
*as much as i hate to say this, hunter's snore is startin' to look mighty enticing. i mean, i may have lost a few hours of sleep last night. just a few. thinkin' it's goin' to be a snow day the next mornin' does that to you.  
*so i plop my head on the desk, an' i'm out.


	3. Chapter 3

Entry #3

Sans (not goin' to say it anymore after this, but there's no way, absolutely no way, that i'm puttin' down sansone-merryweather gaster as my name.)

Mr. Maron

Honors English 12-4

9 October 2014

*so the bell rings, an' anna springs out of her seat like, um, a rabbit, an' hunter's still snorin' away, an' i teleport my way out.

*hey. they didn't say nothin' about goin' in the school in between classes, did they?

*still, i make sure to steer clear of nacarat an' faun an' anna just 'cuz more monsters might mean more teachers springin' on to us. but i still kinda tilt my head towards where they're still supposed to be goin'.

*might be the cafeteria. heh. the hell if i know.

*so i'm cranin' my neck, right? an' cranin, an' cranin, an' there's a boom, an' all of a sudden, i stop goin' forwards.

*turns out, i smacked right into a locker.

*look. when i do somethin' klutzy, it's usually 'cuz i'm tryna be funny. heh, i found what i just did pretty damn funny. an' when i'm not an' i'm just a klutz for the sake of bein' a klutz, i usually try to pass it off. make people laugh, y'know?

*so, yeah. they laugh. they laugh a lot. they laugh like santa after eatin' a triple chocolate cake. an' at first, i'm under a big joke too. i take a bow, all romeo-an'-juliet style, an' all of that, like a real actor, right in front of'em, an' they keep on laughin'. laughin' and laughin', huge guffawing.

*but then their guffawin' starts bitin'. an' that's when everything breaks loose. it's just bits an' pieces.

*"Do that again, skinny!"

*"I bet everyone's like that where you came from."

*"Go home!"

*they're just words, nothin' awful. i don't let 'em get to me. but what really takes the cake is when i take a look-see back behind me, an' one of the teachers (not you, mr. moran), is starin' at me, starin', with a big huge smile on his face an' all. he's the one that just said, "Go home."

*wow.

*now i really feel like a big joke.

*teachers have a pretty darn good judgin' ability, too. sometimes, even better than i do when it comes to an entire room full of kids, all runnin' around like they've all been juiced up on some sort of overpriced coffee, an' someone's gotta find the one who started it all. so when i look back up at the teacher, an' then back down at his leather shoes, an' then stay there, the teacher says it again. "Go home. I mean, I mean, your little nose bone is all-"

*so he pokes my nose like i'm a little kid. i half expect it to squeak just to make 'em laugh a bit more. but all of a sudden, my entire face starts to hurt. yeah, it starts at my nose, but it just throbs all across my face and it's ugly. it's ugly. heh. pain's ugly, duh. an' my face is ugly. an' whatever i just broke on my nose is ugly.

*i hear a few snickers.

*ah, sheesh.

*but the teacher kinda looks… concerned. really. it's kinda like if i trip on the floor an' frisk happens to see me do it an' instead of laughin', their face looks like i'm a kicked puppy.

*an' i hate it when that happens. i wanna make people laugh, not cry. i mean, people have enough problems, right?

*so i say it again. say it like i always do. "i'm fine. i swear. by dose is fine, it ain't broken, by dose is fine…"

*look… i don't want to depress nobody, a'ight? it's not fun. i mean, i should know, bec-

*ah, nevermind. nevermind.

*so i start laughin' right along with 'em.

*even when the bell rings.

*even when my nose starts to get damper than a dog's.

*even when i have to go back to the trailers.

*sorry i couldn't write for awhile. had to go back to frisk's little house an' go help 'em learn a thing or two. heh. kid's bright, but they're still a kid. they've got a lot to learn.

*anyways… i went back to the trailers. i went to english class with, guess who, mr. moran. aka, you. so i had a lot of time to write in this thing (and i really, really hope you'll give me at least a b on this, even though a guy shouldn't have to write a journal to be a quantum physicist just like his dad). but a guy can only write so much before his brain starts to explode. i mean, mr. moran, you must write a lot. you've gotta know how that is. so i started tryin' to heal my nose since i wasn't able to go to the school nurse yet (i was still referrin' to it as "by dose", so i decided to just stop talkin' an' instead just scare faun from behind. thank god the both of us share this class.)

*so this is partially just 'cuz i wanna tell you what happened, and partially because i don't want you to freak out the next time any of us monsters start to literally glow green.

*yeah. i know.

*healin' is… complicated.

*i'm not gonna tell you all the bits and pieces of it. especially since i was in your class, mr. moran. too much about biochemical displacement reactions an' bone marrow homeostasis an' stuff. so i just basically squeezed my nose like a human would, kinda expectin' it to squeak, an' it hurt almost as bad as hittin' it against the locker, an' my hand started lightin' up green (lotsa chemistry there, but i won't bore you with that). but it feels like… a warmth. not really sterile like you would a hospital, but like… a fire. but not a hurting fire (even though what i did kinda hurt.) it's like a warm fireplace, just chillin' out at home with family an' a cup of cocoa an'...

*okay maybe not that much. there's only so much a green glow can do.

*but hey, why am i boring you with all of these details?

*because i'm showing all of you humans what we can do.

*we've got a lot more up our sleeves than you all think.

*now, i'm not talkin' about you, mr. moran, but i don't wanna brownnose either. it's just that… sometimes you have this little tic.

*not sure if you mean to or not, but let's say you're in a class full of both humies and monsters. not like the one you're teachin' now. sometimes, your eyebrows furrow and your voice gets a whole lot louder. but what you're sayin' can be the nicest things in the world. like you can say to all the humans, "Hey, I'm going to give everyone a Tootsie Roll after class!" but if you turn to us, you'll say, "Hey, I'm going to give everyone that did well on their test a Tootsie Roll after class!"

*so it's still nice, but… less nice.

*y'know what i mean?

*...

*sheesh.

*i'm so picky.

*guess i'm nothin' but a pansy.

*guess i kinda deserve all this.

….

*a'ight. next class, i can talk again. which is a good thing i can because, y'know, lunch. an' it's kinda hard to eat when you've got somethin' wrong with your nose. you try to breathe through your mouth an' you sound like a whale, an' you expect dory to start tryin' to talk to you.

*so i sit at a big table with faun to my left, talkin' with all of her friends. some humies, some not.

*who cares?

*all of 'em are textin' on their smartphones, a lot of 'em tryin' to find a signal, a lot of the more tech-savvy humans tryin' to find a signal. nothin' i really want to be a part of, but hey, it's not like there's any flood kids in this lunch period anyway. b'sides, i have a feelin' that if i stuck around there, they'd broadcast every single one of my reactions to the world. which for me is a good thing. really.

*but i'm still smilin' as i say hi while i get my food (a hotdog, wouldn't y'know), an' she smiles right back, an' the friends smile back, an' a few of the kids at her table start laughin' when i do a funny little dance, an' i'm not even sure what it half means, an' the smile gets a bit wider on me.

*the smiles are wide, all around. an' that's what matters.

…..

*so i go off to band, because thank god it's not in the trailers, amiright? those things are freezin'. you can even see the polar bear families startin' to move in, singin' their little coca cola jingles. there aren't any other flood kids, but there are a lot of humies that are halfway nice. for the most part. sometimes they call me "skinny" an' all that, but most of the time it's because i really am skinny an' not just outta spite.

*but this might be one of my worst classes just because of three little (okay, not little) senior girls who play the piccolo. now for those of you who don't know what a piccolo is, just picture a flute. now scrape it across a window pane. now take another flute. now scrape it down a chalkboard. now multiply it by about three hundred an' give yourself a dog's sensitivity. that's pretty much what a piccolo sounds like.

*'least to me.

*heh, my ears are hurtin' just describin' it.

*anyway there are a few kids 'round me who at day one, spent a few minutes trash-talkin' the piccolo girls, an' here i am sittin' right with 'em again.

*'xcept the funny thing is, it ain't the piccolo that gets me.

*it's the thing they do in between songs. right after we finish playin' through the entirety of "the stars and stripes of america", an' i have my semi-big finish as the trombone part, one of them, felicity, starts gettin' out their drawin' pad, an' the two other girls start crowdin' around it an' start moanin' like a ghost fallin' down a rollercoaster an' the group starts laughin' an' i almost get out my trombone and blast it right into her little ossicles in her ear.

*she turns around an' laughs like i just told a joke.

*the funniest one i have.

*she looks up an' down me, as if she's some sort of robot thing an' she has to remember every inch of me.

*an' then it comes out in a whisper.

*"Bone me."

*an' that's why the first note in "the entertainer" i have to play is the loudest one i play in there.

*an' i don't even need to see what was on that drawing pad.

*so when they hand it to me, i just crumple it as the trashcan.

*an' as the great kurt vonnegut said, "so it goes."

…

*welp, this is it, i guess. the last chance i have in this place before i have to get back to the trailers.

*look. i don't mean to be all finicky or hypersensitive or whatever it is. but there's some things i notice from time to time. an' i have noticed 'em since day one. not the day one at school, silly. the day we came up to the surface. they're all chill when a human comes around, but when some skinny like me comes around they just stare an' stare an' stare like i'm a tickin' time bomb or somethin'.

*so instead of bein' a tickin' time bomb, i go over to faun, nacarat, anna, all of 'em. even if more monsters means more teachers, which means more teachers starin' at us like tickin' time bombs. nacarat an' anna are already dartin' their eyes left an' right, lookin' at the teachers.

*like they're tickin' time bombs, too.

*so we don't say anythin' until we're outside. an' even then, we don't slide down the ramp like we usually do, an' i sure don't use my shortcuts or anythin' until we're at the very back of the school towards the trailers an' the teachers can't see us anymore. nothin' we're not used to. a lot of things have happened since day one, an' this sort of thing is one of them.

*but once we go outside, we start sprintin' towards one of the trailers. no reason for it. i dunno. maybe we just wanna have some fun. a guy can only have cabin fever for so long.

*so i try sprintin' with nacarat to the back of the trailers, but one of the teachers now has duty back there, so i make sure to actually use one of my shortcuts for us both so we can head back before the teacher has a chance to look back.

*so anna has this look on her face that makes her mouth look like a scrunched-up piece of spaghetti my brother made, but it still reaches up to her eyes. but faun just rolls her eyes an' says, "Boys. Who needs them?" with a little chuckle before we sprint the rest of the way back.

*so the last class is math. i know. thrilling stuff. so i'll do you a favor an' not tell about any of that stuff.

*but the worst part comes right afterwards, right when i'm about to take my little shortcut home. the three girls, the same piccolo girls in band, "the 'f' girls", as they call themselves. yeah. those three. i'm with nacarat an' the rest of 'em, but that doesn't stop 'em. they tend not to stop when they're goin' up against a guy that's barely over four-oh.

*but i have a feelin' i'm depressin' everyone again, so i try to lighten it up. so i chuckle, right? i go, "what do you want?"

*i don't even take a shortcut yet.

*they all laugh, like i've told a joke… the funniest one in the world.

*"just one thing…" felicity says. gets all close, an' i flash my eye. just a warning. but it feels like i have a really huge gust of wind blowin' through, an' it's too dry to keep on makin' up for it.

*"Like my picture, Bone Daddy?"

*an' i take my shortcut faster than you can say "hey, wait, what the heck was that?"

*psychos.

*i've said it once, an' i've said it again. i'll probably keep on sayin' this as long as the reset button keeps on hangin' over me, as long as all of this keeps on hangin' over me. heh, mr. moran, you probably don't even know what a reset is. i don't care. gettin' to the surface didn't appeal back when i was stuck in that mountain..

*an' it sure don't now.

*heh.

*but what do i know?

*i'm just a skinny.


	4. Chapter 4

Sans

Mr. Moran  
Honors English 11-4  
October 10, 2014

*hey, mr. moran, so thanks for gettin' rid of the 2500 rule. i was kinda goin' crazy there.  
*the "human-monster history reading comprehension" bit at the end sounds kinda hard, but i think i can do it.  
*so let's get this started, 'kay?

*so i head home. who needs the F Girls anyway? an' on a monday. sheesh.  
*it's an okay place, all things considerin'. it's on the outskirts of springfield here in massachusetts. we can see the mountain, which is a great reminder that i'm here an' not there. here, an' not there. here, an' not there.  
* i mean, we live with a bunch of neighbors that are… exactly like us. i mean, down to the dna.  
*alright,alright. i live with a bunch of monsters.  
*but we're real close knit. i mean, all of the people here know about my neighbor clancy's knittin' projects, an' we've all bought at least one of 'em.  
*(yes, i just made a pun. get used to it, 'kay?)  
*but anyway, we know the ins an' outs. we know all the places to buy a pretty foot-tall Mary statue for less than fifty bucks. if someone has a yard sale, we don't cuss an' try to drive around it, we pull over an' see if we can find anythin'. we have a little area near the mountain where we can meet for angelus if the traffic noise is quiet enough. it's cool, i know.  
*but it's not like we can expand anywhere, either. we got lucky. they'd just finished this little area about a year before we left the mountain. back when i was in my own little special hell.  
*but most of the monsters are stuck in the motels. we're tryna build, but it takes longer to build a house than you'd think. an' i don't know if the same stupid red paper got on the back of the motel door, but if it does…  
*i dunno.  
*i might have a thing for quantum physics (which REALLY isn't as hard as it sounds, it's kinda a bunch of atoms runnin' back an' forth), but i dunno a lot of things.  
*like i said… i dunno.  
*we got real lucky, that's all.  
*i guess it's luck that got me outta the mountain. or just frisk bein' either the nicest kid in the world or the most sadistic. nice if they keep me, sadistic if they push the reset button an' lash me back. simple, i know. i've been in this little area 'bout three times before, so i know my way around more than most, but the stupid red paper…  
*that's new. that's pretty new.  
*so i go in the front door. this house kinda taught me what mold smells like when you're somewhere dry, but the important thing is that it's dry. an' it also taught me the invaluable lesson of teleporting down the hickory stairs when y'haven't sanded them yet.  
*but it's dry. that's the important part.  
*so i slug my backpack on the chair like it's a big boulder or somethin'.  
*"hi, dad."  
*"Good afternoon, son. How was your day at school?"  
*"well, it's kinda complicated, so get comfy…"  
*"Alright, alright, son. How about you tell me in one word? I'm sure I can interpret it from that, given the context. Besides, I-"  
*paps ain't home yet, an' he won't be home for a little while. high school bus won't even be here for 'bout ten minutes or so. so i let myself go. just this one time.  
*"shit."  
*my dad. i love 'im . i'll love 'im an' paps to the end.  
*so he doesn't send his 17-year-old son to his room, right? doesn't do anythin' like ground 'im , either. he just kinda… laughs.  
*there's a whole, whole lot of parents that overreact at somethin' stupid like this. i mean, if i started talkin' like this all the time, then he'd give me what-for. but for now, he just kinda… laughs.  
*but only for a second. only for a second.  
*an' it's his turn to pull up the chair.  
*the room gets all quiet-like, an' the heater shuts off. great. even more quiet-like. an' when dad talks, it kinda scares me. it's not as… i dunno… flamboyant, i guess. it's softer, almost like a school counselor took me aside an' told me my dog died.  
* but thank god we're still allowed to buy dogs, amiright?  
*"Son. I know you wouldn't be this excessive unless you had a great deal of trouble today. So, if you please, can you elaborate on this dilemma?"  
*alright, alright. normally, i wouldn't even have any "dilemmas" to "elaborate" on. normally, i'd scuttle off to my room, do my homework an' stuff, wait for paps to come home, walk 'im from the bus even though he's all the way in the eighth grade.  
*heh. sometimes, i like to pawn it off as him bein' the older bro.  
*anyway…  
*so i go off.  
*"so it started off when there was a stupid slip of paper."  
*"Yes?"  
*"an' the stupid slip of paper said that we were stupidly separated from the rest of the students. an' we have to be in the stupid trailers, where it's stupidly cold. an' there's about a hundred fifty of us, an' i have to be with stupid mr. hunt. so we're stupidly, um…."  
*i don't wanna say "segregated." not "segregated." "segregated" is too much. "segregated" would pull this whole thing into somewhere i don't want it to be a part of yet. i know if i said that, my dad would start goin' off, callin' everyone, tryn'a find someone to blame, find some sort of politician to call up an' practically yell at. so i just let it trail off on the "um."  
*but he still picks up the phone.  
*god, he's so smart.  
*i'll love 'im to the end.

*paps.  
*so fifteen minutes till his bus starts screechin' outside, i head out, all with my hoodie an' all. gaster (i say way too many puns in this family to have the ability to call him "dadster") is still callin' people. here's how the first one went.  
*"Hello, sir. This is the school office, am I correct?"  
*"Thank you. Now, I would like some more information about a recent policy's implementation. My son has reported that he's been separated with some of the other students. Now, these students are in the trailers. I'm wondering if this is a temporary policy having to do with school maintenance to improve its correlation with monster's biological systems. If it's anything pertaining to that, can you please-"  
*"Hello? Hello?"  
*second call, he reduced his spiel to just "I'm wondering if this is a temporary policy, and I would like some more information on this."  
*but the ending was still the same.  
*"Hello? Hello?"  
*so the fifteen minute time comes runnin' in at about the third call, an' i get my hide outta there before my dad starts yellin'. it's almost like one of his formulae went wrong. an' the nice cream guy named john who lives on my left is comin' too, which won't help out my "older bro" plan.  
*so we wait there for 'bout ten minutes, an' for the first time, i can rant about this with someone. i know, i know. ranting is somewhat girly. okay, a lot girly. but sometimes, it can be real helpful, y'know?  
*so i rant. an' he joins in. about the trailers, about hunter, about the three f girls. about everythin'. when i get to the f girls, he cringes an' goes, "Yeah. Sometimes, it can get crazy. But hey, that's high school for you, huh?"  
*i guess.  
*so the bus finally comes.  
*heh, whatever. still my bro. still the same.  
*he gets with a group of boys, huge boys, over six-oh, two whole huge feet over me. but they somehow manage to look down on paps, an' they kinda nod when he tells 'em about exotic pasta recipes an' his halloween costume for this year, but they kinda walk off.  
*i've said this over an' over again in my head, an' i'm gonna say it again on paper this time. it's not just high school that's stupid.  
*an' after all of this, paps still runs off of the bus. he almost loses his scarf, an' a stupid red paper is in his hand that's as red as his scarf. so he runs, an' he hugs me, an' i almost fall because he's so tall, but i don't care 'cuz thank god for teleporting. so we both get on our driveway, my dad's lil red tahoe jalopy smilin' at us. i steal the stupid lil' paper from his hand, an' it accidentally rips in the corner.  
*"gimme that, bro. it's a pretty TEARable rule, ain't it?" an' he says, "IT'S BEEN EXACTLY THIRTY SECONDS SINCE I'VE BEEN OFF OF THE BUS, SANS!". but he's laughin', an' he's laughing, an' he's laughin', an i'm smilin'.  
*an' that's all that matters.

*so i'm layin' on the couch, starin' at the tv screen. but my bro kinda yells at me for it, an' dad says, "Would you please stop it?" 'cuz he's tryna finish his phone calls, so paps has to push me off.  
*so now i'm makin' dinner, tryna help out my bro with his algebra (god, i almost forgot stuff like that), an' dad takes a gamble at the phone calls.  
*so i give a lil' glare, but it ain't big enough to let 'im know anythin' quite yet.  
*because he's taken a few more gambles more.  
*when i was a kid, real little, back before i learned what an atom was, i remember feelin' hungry. feelin' hungry all the time. dad would take some money an' say he'd be back in a few hours. but the money wouldn't. it just never did.  
*paps would feel hungry, an' i'd say there's nothin' to cook, but that didn't stop us from feelin' hungry.  
*so paps an' i had to go off to grillby's.  
*grillby's is heaven.  
*wman, have we had some good times there. nobody 'xcept me, my bro, an' everyone else in grillbs. an' we always got food. as much ketchup as i wanted. no stupid red papers or stupidi mr. hunt or stupid reset buttons. not that we begged. beggin' was way too embarrassin', an' my dad would probably feel worse. an' b'sides, i wanted to be a comedian. heck, i still do. so i performed. performed a whole lot. grillbs was my age back then, but he still tossed me an 'im a burger each an' every night.  
*comedy. a powerful thing, ain't it?  
*eh… i'm gettin' way too deep.  
*but what do i know?  
*i still love 'em. my bro, my dad.  
*an' i'll love 'em till the end.

Sans  
Mr. Moran  
Honors English 11-4  
10 October 2014

"OUR HISTORY- HUMANS AND MONSTERS"  
Worksheet #1 (out of 10)  
Directions: Read the narrative carefully and answer the questions to the best of your ability. Incorrectness can be applied for a number of reasons, such as failing to answer the questions, failing to cooperate with certain statements, or spelling errors.

"The Meteor that Started a Disease"  
In 25 million B. C., a meteor crashed into the atmosphere bearing the radiative force of an extremely small star. Once it landed, it unleashed a noxious force of mutagenic radiation, causing multiple "hiccups" in evolution. Hundreds of thousands of genetic mutations occurred in animals such as grazing bezoars, tuataras, a type of primeval lizard with green scales, and bichirs, which is a fish that has the ability to walk on land As a result, humans and monsters evolved separately. They took on human characteristics, although they were truly a disgusting imitation, and lived in various parts of the world, close to where their primal ancestors were. For examples, the bezoar monsters lived in the tops of mountains in Turkey and Persia, while the bichir monsters crawled on their bellies and ate the dirt off of the Nile River bed.  
After about 10 million B. C.- after millions of years of idiocy- monsters finally comprehended that they were separate lifeforms from the rest of the animals around them. They ran off from their primal origins, clinging to other monsters like a needy and whining child would to a busy mother. Because of their overarching inability to make coordinations, the clans were often very diverse, holding all sorts of monsters. However, the monsters even lacked the ability to repopulate themselves as well as humans would be able to, and their population flatlined. When this happened, the earth was peaceful and tranquil. When the monsters were forced down Mt. Ebott later in the year 1211 A.D., the humans would eventually teach them a lesson, grouping them into this same sort of clan to teach them that they would forever be inferior to the intellect of the humans.  
But for millions of years, monsters were unfortunately the dominant lifeform, as they had an ever so slightly higher level of intelligence compared to the rest of the animals. This was the result of the genetic modifications which the monsters, unable to create their own genetics, stole from the human race. When humans finally emerged in one glorious spring in 2 million B. C., there were a few rivalries, but for the most part, hominids and monsters were allowed to coexist. However, it was inevitable for this ont to last.  
While the monsters had slightly more instincts and survival skills than the humans did, the humans were blessed with the gift of easier repopulation and an astonishingly high intellect. In fact, monsters' intelligence grew so low that the humans had to teach monsters to walk on two feet .  
But this was only the beginning. Other than the rivalries, they would commit many more atrocities, which you will hear about later in this worksheet series.

QUESTIONS:

Question #1: What is the main idea of this passage?  
Put your answer to Question #1 here:  
*this is stupid.

Question #2: Drawing from the context clues of the word "grazing" in "grazing bezoar", is the bezoar most likely a rattlesnake, a shark, or a goat?  
Put your answer to Question #2 here:  
*this is stupid.

Question #3: Which paragraph best fits the idea that monsters had an inferior intellect to humans?  
Put your answer to Question #3 here:  
*this is stupid.

Question #4: Which word can replace the word "glorious" in paragraph three: wonderful, deplorable, or ersatz?  
Put your answer to Question #4 here:  
*this is stupid.

Question #5: In your own words, how do you think the Earth would have fared if the meteor had missed the atmosphere? Cite examples from the text accordingly.  
Put your answer to Question #5 here:  
*this is stupid.

Question #6: Following this worksheet, what two paragraphs would a scientist most likely cite for debunking creationism?  
Put your answer to Question #6 here:  
*this is stupid.

Question #7: How many years did it take for monsters to finally realize that they were a separate species? Add sentences from the reading as to why this was so.  
Put your answer to Question #7 here:  
*this is stupid.

Question #8: Finally, how do you think this article applies to modern history? For example, in September of 2014, monsters came out of Mt. Ebott, mushrooming into Massachusetts. Following this passage, how did your opinion on this issue change?  
Put your answer to Question #8 here:  
*this is stupid.

*my god.  
*you wanted me to answer these?  
*heh.  
*you must really think i'm stupid.


	5. Chapter 5

Mr. Gaster-

Before you begin today's entry, please make a mental note to see me after class. I would like to discuss something with you.

-Rob Moran

Sans

Honors english 11-4

Mr. moran

October 12th, 2014

notes from our conversation that might be useful later.

*so i see the note. cuss under my breath, just in case he's behind me. i can't exactly rip out the paper… it's kinda sewn together, so if i do it'll just fall apart an' scatter all across the floor.

*an' monsters really don't need that kinda stuff right now, y'know?

*an' after class, nacarat an' faun say for me to catch up with them 'cuz they're goin' to the new, shindig-gy place that grillbz built that's supposed to be just like the old one. i say no 'cuz i'm supposed to take care of paps an' i say you know how it is. an' they just ask me if it's ok if they take paps with 'em. so i say yeah because we've done this quite a few times in snowdin.

*after all of this, paps could really use a distraction.

*so the bell rings, an' i would be more depressed watchin' the buses go by if it weren't for my condition, powers, blessing, whatever ya want to call the thing that makes my eye turn all bright an' sore. mr. moran is still sittin' at the back of the tables. he isn't starin at me or nothin'. he's just… gradin' papers.

*so i schlep my way over to 'im . "what is it, teach?"

*"First of all, Mr. Gaster, it's Mr. Moran. And second of all, what you have demonstrated in the past entry is… distressing."

*he talks pretty slow, has a complete southern drawl, too, so i can mush together what i have to say real quick. "'distressin'?'"

*"Alright. That might not have been the word. Perhaps 'disconcerting' or 'perturbing' is a better word."

*"remember when we were writin' those essays?"

*"Yes, I do."

*"an' you were tellin' us 'bout how important word choice is?"

*"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you. 'Disconcerting' might have been a better word."

*"i'm talkin' about the thing at the back of the journal, te-um, uh, mr. moran. y'know. the one i screwed up on."

*"Please continue."

*i smile a bit so it doesn't look like i'm gonna give him a whackin'. a whackin' isn't nearly as bad as a bad time, but it's not exactly a pat on the back either.

*"let's just say your word choice wasn't the best, teach."

*mr. moran stands up, an' i can hear the poor tiles bein' scraped. he stands over me, right over me, an' for a sec i think we're goin' to lay up, right here, right now. but with all of the cameras here, that doesn't make-

*"Please excuse me, Mr. Gaster. I have to use the restroom. Thank goodness the janitors don't get the one by the math hallway until 3:30."

*an' as he leaves, his hair almost touches the door.

*heh. guess this guy's more clever than i thought.

*so to make it look like i'm not that calculatin', i play on my phone for about five minutes until a text comes in.

*BROTHER! I HAVE A PRESSING DILEMMA! SHOULD I GET THE FIREHOUSE BURGER OR THE GRILLBY'S GRILLED SPECIAL? I DO WISH YOU WERE HERE, THE OTHERS TOLD ME YOU WERE IN SCHOOL BECAUSE YOU WERE TOO LAZY TO DO ONE OF YOUR ASSIGNMENTS!"

*i rap my palm against my forehead. this is what happens when people don't get the whole truth. an' it ain't just them bein' told the wrong things.

*it's them not askin' for the right things.

*"bro, you can get whatever you want, but if i were you, i'd get the grilled special. grillbz puts a little ketchup in it while it cooks."

*so i look up at the clock. stretch out my neck a bit. teach's been in the john for awhile now.

*"an' about the assignment…"

*i change it about five times, but it finally coems out to "and about the assignment, we'll talk about it later, ok?" an' when i send it, i have to go ahead an' mosey down the hallway to keep from cringin'.

*so when i get in there, mr. moran's waitin' on the wall. no one else. the toilets fill up every once in awhile, even with nobody flushin', so that's low-key worryin'. but there's just mr. moran. no janitors.

*no cameras.

*"Mr. Gaster. I thought you would catch on soon enough."

*"i would've sooner. just had to catch up on a few things." i say catch an' up real close together so it kinda sounds like ketchup, but sadly, mr. moran hasn't caught up to my heinz thing just yet.

*"About the word choice… it's not me writing these papers."

*he tries to slide down the wall, but mr. moran's old enough to where he kinda has to grab the wall with both his hands, then the floor. i stand above 'im , but not by much. but i still stand above 'im . so i sit my way down.

*"Mr. Gaster, very few students know about this process, and I'm hesitant to disclose this information to even a few more. At the beginning of the year, us teachers are given a textbook. We don't have to give an individual copy to each of the children, but we do have to teach directly from it. But last month…"

*"last month. kinda a touchy subject, isn't it?"

*"Exactly. Last month, we were given a new policy that the administration could issue a new textbook at any moment, with any subject. They said it was to, um…"

*it's quiet enough to where i can hear one of the toilets fillin' up again.

*"They said it was to 'tailor to the situations of every student.'"

*i grind my teeth together for just a second. try not to make it noticeable, so i pretend that i'm seriously interested in one of the cracks on the yellow floor.

*"so, mr. moran, what am i supposed to do?"

*he starts to look at that same crack, so i kinda make sure to jerk my head up.

*"To be honest, young man… I'm not sure. I was thinking that since you had this information, you could disclose it to other kids in the school, including Faun and Nacarat. But unfortunately, I'm bound by Springfield Public Schools to give you the grade according to the completion. And these are stacked high enough to where if you don't complete these, you could be held back from your diploma."

*heh. dad would get a load of that.

*but more importantly, paps would.

*"alright. so i'll just keep doin' what i'm doin'. keep informed. an' pray they don't put cameras in here."

*an' as i'm makin' my way to my backpack, i'm thinkin' of tellin' all of this to faun an' nacarat in one big, long text. maybe even go to grillby's just so i can tell 'em. just so we can all be one step closer to bein' free. i mean, as free as i can get without the reset button an' all.

*i make sure to go to the bathroom again before i take another shortcut.

*'cuz you can never be too careful.

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

October 12th, 2014

*so where was i before we got into this whole 'incompletion' mess?

*oh, yeah.

*last monday, wasn't it?

*alright.

…

*so dad finally finishes the calls. i'm still helpin' out paps with his homework, but he can't focus. i can't blame 'im . i really can't focus either, after that stupid slip of red paper.

*"NOTHING," my dad says. "EXCEPT ONE TEACHER AT THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, OF ALL PLACES, SAYING THAT IT'S A COUNTYWIDE POLICY, AND THAT I'M CALLING THE WRONG AUTHORITIES. OF COURSE, I DID TRY AND CALL THE RIGHT AUTHORITIES, BUT ONE CAN ONLY BE SO SUCCESSFUL AT THAT."

*"that's a relief. but i know you did your best."

*he just nods and goes upstairs.

*alright, i'm kinda.. what word did mr. moran use… disconcerted. which is kinda a mix of "oh god, what's goin' on now" an' "i should probably do somethin' about this." when i learned it, i found out i'm disconcerted a lot more times than i'm not.

*so i give paps a break. i try to give 'im a hug, just because he has that look on his face, eyes wide, kinda shakin', like everything's too much for him, but he says no, no, no hugs, please, an' he goes to the kitchen an' gets out the noodles an' the salt an' pepper an' boilin' pot an' i go upstairs 'cuz i know he doesn't like bein' disturbed an' all.

*dad never does this.

*"hey, dad?"

*there's an echo from one of the bedrooms. "I'M IN HERE, SON!"

*it kinda rumbles a bit on his college degrees that's right in front of his bedroom, so i know he's in there.

*hmmm. might just be gettin' changed or somethin'.

*heh. i don't want to be any more awkward, so i shortcut back to my usual spot on the couch.

*i try gettin' in the cable, but i make sure to mute it 'cuz paps doesn't like any type of extra sound when he gets this...sensitive. i wanna watch the game (yes, i actually like parts of human culture, whoop whoop), but instead of it bein' clear, it's all choppy, an' sometimes the signal conks out every once in a while, an' my brother's yellin' out turn it off, turn it off, 'cuz he can hear a high-pitched noise comin' from the tv, so i do.

*i look outside. heh. stormclouds are a'comin'.

*guess humans aren't the cause of everythin'.

*i catch up on this one episode alphy wanted me to watch. heh. made me laugh a bit. an hour.

*i do mass. an hour.

*paps calls me for the spaghetti. "HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW IT WAS READY? NOW IT'S GONE COLD, AND NOW WE'LL HAVE TO MICROWAVE IT, AN-" so i eat it. i say sorry. least he lets me pat his shoulder. a half an hour.

*the sun sets. fifteen minutes.

*i try to take a shower but then realize dad's up there, the master bathroom tucked like a lil' bundle in his bedroom. so i go up there. yell at him to come down because paps made some spaghetti. he says, "COMING", but he never does. heh. reminds me of that happy little part of my childhood when he'd go out with his money. he'd spend it all, come home with a few aces tucked up his shirt. he said more money was comin'. but it never did.

*oh well.

*so i do some work on quantum physics because why the hell not. an hour.

*god, i'm such a nerd.

*i finally, finally hear somethin' comin' down the stairs. it's dad, an' it's eight.

*so i feign takin' a shower. but when i go to his room, i rummage things around. but i do it with my left hand stretched out an' my eye puttin' up a blaze' like it's gonna turn into ashes, an' it sure as hell feels like it. telekinesis tends to douse the noise quite a bit.

*just as i go into the room, there's a color.

*not comin' from my eye, but my eye still sees it.

*there's a color.

*the color purple.

*so i look around the room like i'm gonna get whiplash, an' there's purple in two places. one's the ugly christmas sweater paps had to wear back in the mountain. i know there's nothin' left for me there, so i look at the other place.

*he tried to hide it. he tried so hard to hide it.

*with my hands this time, i go on an' slide the little purple corner out. almost like it was teasin' me the whole time.

*but when i read the cover, it makes me feel like the dumbest lil' monster in the world. as dumb as the humies say i am.

*because i can't figure this one out.

*"Deltarune."

*that's what it says on the cover.

*"Deltarune."

*but by then dad's gone so high up the stairs that i have to shove the book back an' shortcut my way back in the bathroom so he doesn't see.

*"Deltarune."

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

October 12th, 2014

"OUR HISTORY- HUMANS AND MONSTERS"

Worksheet 2/10:

Directions: Read the narrative correctly to the best of your ability. Incorrectness can be applied for a number of reasons, such as failure to answer questions, failure to cooperate with certain statements, and spelling errors. PLEASE MAKE SURE TO ANSWER ALL QUESTIONS.

Over the next few hundred thousand years, their stupidity and brutish nature compared to hominids finally took a toll on them, and a truth was established that would stand true for the next hundreds of thousands of years… technology would outsmart the primal, animalistic urges of strength and magic. For at the invention of fire, hominids proved that they could survive better than monsters could.

Still, they lived in peace, even if monsters' peace was extremely clingy and clan-favoring.

In 170,000 B.C., while humans discovered the use of clothing for protection from enemies and elements, monsters, in their sheer idiocy, preferred their own natural fur, scales, and other natural embeddings. But soon, around 160,000 B.C., the monsters with subpar protection, such as skeletons, utilized clothing. Eventually, by 150,000 B.C., all monsters finally learned to use clothing, although the hardier, stupider monsters, such as goat-monsters, only used clothing for decoration. This is when their pagan inclinations took their root, and where their uncivilized manner grew ever more.

In 100,000 B. C., hominids learned how to speak, and in 80,000 B. C., monsters finally caught on. They developed their own languages from the hominids. They would rub off the nearby human languages because of their profound inability to construct their own, but for the most part, their languages were indeed separate. This caused bouts of well-meaning conflict between hominids and monsters, but for the first time, monsters could make plans. This made them dangerous, and danger combined with foolishness is the most dangerous toxin indeed. Instead of clans being as diverse, they could plan what certain species of monsters would appear and where they would. Because of their overwhelming slowness, they spent the next few thousand years forming specified clans until finally, monsters started to group with their own kind. Needless to say, they bred like the devilish rabbits that they were, consuming more of the Earth's precious resources with every generation.

In 75,000 B.C., monsters delved further and further into their animalistic attributes, adding primitive jewelry to their bodies. Often, for lack of competence to find anything better, they would decorate their homes and bodies with whatever would come from trees, stemming from the belief that trees were special, since monsters' dust would often fuel the trees' course, this is an unsophisticated notion, as there is no scientific evidence that monsters inhabit these trees, and so should be regarded as nonsense, along with their entire faith, current and past. They also began to attempt to bury dust, but this was always unsuccessful. While the branches of modern Christianity would not sprout until 0 A.D., their attempts at religion would nevertheless be thwarted by the superior intellect of humans.

Question #1: What word could replace "idiocy" at paragraph three? You may use a thesaurus.

Answer #1: *stupidity

Question #2: Put the events in sequence: monsters adopt animalistic religions, a meteor strikes the Earth, monsters breed and consume more of Earth's resources

Answer #2: 2, 3, 1

Question #3: Armed with these facts, what would you say if you were to come across a monster practicing their religion? Cite examples from Charles Darwin, Louis de Broglie, and James Chadwick, as well as other known scientists.

Answer #3: *i'd say their religion was illogical, and highly personal. if god can't be scientifically tested, then he can't possibly be real, right?

Question #4: Why do you think monsters took so long to master language compared to humans? In a study conducted in 1975, a primeval rabbit-monster skeleton, dug up from deep in the Sahara, was found to have a skull that was only 150 cubic centimeters, whereas a human at the same age had a skull that was 1,500 cubic centimeters.

Answer #4: *because monsters then had smaller brains than humans. and because they were too busy evolving their bodies against human fights to increase the size of their brains.

Question #5: If a researcher were to use this as a source, what paragraph would he or she use to describe the clan system of monsters?

Answer #5: *second

Question #6: Who do you think is telling the story: a monster, an objective, scientific author, or an art teacher?

Answer #6: *an art teacher. they're closer connected to the school board.

Question #7: What sentence would you use to verify credibility of this passage/

Answer #7: *none, the author is not given.

Question #8: Currently, the Bible and other religious texts are placed in the nonfiction section of libraries across Massachusetts and the whole of the United States. Would the author in this story approve of this staying that way?

Answer #8: *no. they'd probably advocate for it to go in the fiction section at this point.

*god.

*i feel sick.

*is this what i hafta do to get a degree?

*if that's true…

*no.

*can't reset.

*can't go back.

*can't reset.

*can't go back.

*ican'tgobackican'tgobackican'tican'tican'tican't-

*i feel sick.


	6. Chapter 6

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

12 October 2014

*so as i'm goin' back downstairs, i'm tryin' to fumble a bit at dad's book, but he's already in the room. he's on the desk, pretendin'. but i know what he's up to. heh.

*not too hard to be a judge with him around.

*but frisk is somethin' else.

*frisk is… heh, kinda a wild card. i dunno if they're watchin' me. i dunno if they know that i'm happy with the way things are now. livin' in a cardboard box but havin' a future is a million times better than livin' in a mansion but havin' no future, i guess.

* heck, i can't even tell if frisk is a he or a she.

*look. i'm not gonna tell 'em a lot of things. i'm not gonna tell 'em i have nightmares about them, that they'll throw inna towel an' push the button already. i'm not gonna tell 'em that i'm so hungry when i get home 'cuz i sleep during lunch. i'm not, i'm not, i'm not gonna tell 'em 'bout the stupid red slip of paper. 'cuz even if they reset, they still don't deserve to get all the blame for what's happenin'. what's happenin' is probably caused by adults. adults, not lil' kids. adults who are actin' like lil' kids.

*but my question is…

*why is it that all of the power you can find, no matter where, tends to go to the person who can twist an' turn it outta shape the most?

* i stare a bit, thinkin' for just a second, just a second, that he'll walk away an' i'll get to peek. but he doesn't even look up from his work. not even to ask me why i'm starin' like a crazy person. so i throw inna towel myself.

*so i go back down to paps. dinner's seemed to calm him down quite a bit. so i try givin' 'im a hug just to see how calm he is, an' he pauses for a few seconds this time before huggin' me.

*so i know.

*so i can be a decent judge.

*so i get an extra bowl. just to see if that'll do anything. an' when i do, he's so excited that he starts wavin' his hands for just a second, just a second, like he's gonna fly away, right into the sky. but that's before he starts callin' undyne 'bout if there's a royal guard on the surface, his voice louder than anythin' i can muster.

*an' i do want 'im to fly away. i want 'im to be free, just like one of the robins flyin' around here on the surface. i don't want 'im to be stuck in these resets. 'cuz even if he doesn't remember 'em like i do, he's still as stuck here as i am. an' even without the resets, he's still got that stupid slip of red paper, slappin' 'im right in the face. all of the friendships he could've made. all of the people he could've met. if it weren't for this stupid, stupid tension goin' on between the humies an' us- i just want 'im to be happy. that's all.

*an' he can't be happy without a dad with 'im.

*least i can try to give 'im that.

*so i shortcut my way into dad's room, an' i can see 'im rummaging so it looks like he's workin' on his papers for his physics lab. he gives me a lil' lecture about how "WE'VE DISCUSSED THIS, WE'VE AGREED THAT YOU'RE NOT TO TELEPORT INTO MY BEDROOM WHILE THE DOOR IS LOCKED", an' i feed 'im a lil' bull about how i didn't know the door was locked. not like he actually believes it. but it's enough, i guess, for the next halfa minute i'm gonna be here.

*i announce that we're goin' across town to frisk an' toriel's. paps needs the break, i say. an' i add that maybe i can visit the kiddo while i'm at it. just maybe.

*so he says yes, an' i get my lil' culata outta there, an' i tell paps to pack his stuff, an' he runs over here faster than you can say "slowdownslowdownSLOWDOWN."

*but before we do, there's one thing we need to do first.

*okay. so we have these woods in the back 'bout a half mile left, right? that's where we say the angelus every noon, or at least try to. we bump into the mary statue an' i shortcut me an' 'im 'bout two miles left, an' there's a group of teens there, all tall, all the same, all humies. but i don't care, 'cuz my bro's happy, an' i don't want a group of teens ruinin' his day as much as groups of teens ruin mine.

* so we pick up sticks from the ground, an' we do a lil' stick fight with both of us missin' on purpose, an' i must've gotten so excited i accidentally shortcutted, because wouldn't ya know it, we're back at the mary statue. we've gotten exactly two handfuls of wood, one for each person, but i think that's enough. then again, i don't have very good standards for enough, i guess.

*so we fight a lil' more. rant about the stupid slip of red paper. talk about some new theories with alphys' show. talk about how people tend to believe things just because it's been there since they were kids. talk about how lazy i am, an' then just like that, the first house painted all purple, not baby's blanket purple, pops up.

*so we put down our bundles of sticks (i know an, um, colorful word for those) an' hustle our way into toriel's house. we can see the start of the main road from where we are, all the rest of the houses stretchin' out to the right. a group of troublemakers that have gotta be from my high school, people that old folks are accustomed to yellin' at, starts sprayin what must be' something awful on the giant plaque that has our neighborhood name on it. paps an' i are 'bout to go gung ho like we did once or twice to some more troublemaking humies, with his bones an' my blasters, the dynamic duo, just to scare 'em off. But that's just 'till we notice the cameras they're carryin' with 'em.

*that's when toriel shuts the blinds an' hushes us in.

*paps looks crushed, but only for a second. i pat 'im on the back an' promise we can spar on the way back. practice a few moves. his smile comes back, an' that's all mine needs.

*"Boys will be boys, I suppose," toriel says. she's sayin' it real quiet, like she thinks we can't hear. she kinda laughs. kinda. but then she calls up the stairs. "Frisk! The Gaster brothers are down here!"

*i hear a lil' "I'll be down in a minute!" but toriel doesn't buy that, an' she climbs the stairs, an' while paps is tryna talk to me 'bout snow days even through i hate the resets i hatethemIHATETHEM, i hear a KA-THUD. one of the pictures kinda rattles.

*now, normally, when she climbs up the stairs, i hear a kaBUMP, kaBUMP, kaBUMP, kaBUMP. so i race my own way up the stairs, crick crick crick crick crick crick, an' paps follows me after awhile, OOMpa, OOMpa, OOMpa, OOMpa.

*an' toriel 's just sittin' there at the top. she's pantin' like the dog i used to own. little white pomeranian named mack. loved to jump up on people who so much as looked at him. always finished his food. mr. moran, you probably would've liked him. but he didn't know what was comin'.

*'bout a month ago, while we were comin' up here, some police wanted to search us. wanted to make sure "we weren't threats". so they took everythin' we had, our boxes, our food, our clothes, everythin', an' we had to wear what patients wear in hospitals an' wait at the wood's end. crazy, i know. so we went back to our stuff, an' wouldn't you know it? no mack. no sight of my dad's cell, either.

*heh. guess i deserved it. i wasn't careful enough. even after the past two or three resets i've gone up here. but my family sure doesn't. but i do.

*anyway…

*so toriel's pantin' like mack. all collapsed, kinda like she's a soap opera star gettin' some sort of news. she's a mess. she's on her knees, kinda starin' at the floor like it's changin' colors right in front of her. she's sweatin', too. sweatin' like she ran up here instead of walked.

*an' her hand's on her heart.

*so i don't say anythin', an' the first thing that pops into my head is the phone. i'm just about to call it when somethin' squeaks out of her. in between a squeal an' a yell. "No, don't!" an' she's yellin' an' frisk is standin' off to the side, one hand in their room in this glowy part where i can't see an' one hand stickin' out, i want to go to 'em, but i still stick it out, phone still in my hand. just in case.

*"I'll be fine."

*she stands up. kinda shaky, though. she puts a hand on the wall. almost shatters one of the pictures of everyone, but i try to move it out of her way, hand all stretched out an' eye afuss. but still, one part of the glass breaks, an' that crinkles the whole paper. an' paps is cryin', paps is cryin', hands are over his ears…

*heh. guess i can't do anythin' worth it after all.

*the only thing i can hear is a little gasping noise behind me, an' i'm sure it's paps. i put down the picture, an' his breathin' starts to slow. which is good. wish i could pat his back. but i do stand a lil' closer to 'im.

*"I'll be fine. These attacks have been happening lately, but I always manage to get through them. Right, Frisk?"

*they just nod.

*they just nod.

*an' their hand never leaves the lil' area in their room where i can't see.

…..

*but life goes on. it always has to. even when you're scared it'll start all over again.

*so i go off to frisk's room. they say hi an' all, ask how school's goin', even joke with me a little. but then i see the glowy thing again in their room. it has a brown outline. three options. one with the letter r in the beginnin', the word "set" at the end, an' the letter e in the middle. take a wild guess.

*then the glow kinda dies off. an' then they complain their stomach hurts, so they shut the door on me. heh. figures. if somethin's too awkward, just avoid it, right? i know how it goes.

*so we give her the bundles of sticks. paps has all calmed down, but he's got his earmuffs on even though it's somethin' like sixty degrees. she says thanks because her wood stove's all she has for her energy. no coal, no oil, nothin'. it's like we'll go on an' waste all of america's brown blood just like that.

*i nod.

*'cuz we already got our own sticks a month ago.

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

12 October 2014

"OUR HISTORY- HUMANS AND MONSTERS"

Worksheet #3 out of #10

Directions: Read the directions carefully and answer accordingly. Incorrectness can be given for many different reasons, including grammatical errors, spelling errors, or failing to comply with a certain statement. FAILING TO COMPLY WITH A CERTAIN STATEMENT MAY RESULT IN FAILURE OF THE ASSIGNMENT.

Around 65,000 B.C., monsters finally created their own art, after millions of years of ignoring its glories. This passion for art would lead to a large expansion of the craft in the monsters' culture in general, and it is still a prevalent force to this day, although the majority of monster art is still rather primitive.

Around 48,000 B.C., monsters start to learn how to create their own clothing and decorations by sewing. This lead to an advancement in finer movements that they had lacked since their first appearance on Earth. For the first time, monsters could finally comprehend how to grasp items, to begin to make tools out of the plants around them, and prepare food more effectively. Humans, in a revolutionary feat, start to make stone tools, such as spears, in order to more effectively fight monsters. This led to expected, and even typical confusion on the monsters' part, and the monster population experienced a drop.

Around 40,000 B.C., monsters started to create their own musical instruments and sculptures. They were some of the most primitive in existence, often crafted out of bone. They began to bang on drums rhythmically, and masses and masses of monsters would often gather to listen and dance in an unholy manner, violently jumping up and down. They created a shoddy, xylophone-like instrument, which would often be played either out of boredom or for end-of-life rituals. (This also did a fine job of scaring away early skeletons.)

Around 15,000 B.C., human-monster conflicts inevitably grew as humans grew eager for an opportunity to test their new tools. For a few select groups of monsters, this led to them pioneering cremation. Along with piles of dust, humans were also cremated along with them, seething and burning at the only things humans had left. They also learned how to travel to other lands via boats in short distances, spreading more terror through these conflicts. In some occasions, monsters spread from continent to continent, and their population exploded. Their reign of oppression and inhuman savagery led to more conflicts, all justified in nature. After brute strength failed the monsters, they turned to technology, and unable to create their own weapons, they rubbed off of the designs of human weapons. On the other hands, humans discovered SOULs and the nature of SOULs, as well as distinguishing that there were different types of SOULs. With this, humans embarked on a mission to repel their oppressors.

Question #1: How is the practice of monsters spreading to other continents mirrored today? It is recommended to cite examples, including the final sentence and the retaliation of the humans.

Answer #1: *monsters are spreadin'. that's it.

Question #2: Why were the conflicts between humans and monsters justified?

Answer #2: *'cuz humans thought the monsters were oppressin' them. but as far as i was told, the monsters were just settlin' down all hippie-like. but you say what you'd like.

Question #3: What were the three purposes of the xylophone during the primeval monster era?

Answer #3: *boredom. end-of-life stuff. an' what is the last reason, some sort of big joke?

Question #4: What happened once the humans advanced their tools and began the Stone Age.

Answer #4: *monster conflicts.

Question #5: What is a synonym to "savagery?"

Answer: *"inhumanity." in that case, i guess you're right. we're not human. why not go one step farther an' replace it?

Question #6: How did monsters dance back in the primeval era? In a short essay, describe how they danced. Make it at least five sentences.

Answer #6: *monsters danced weird. not the way we dance now. they jumped up an' down. we don't. now, we dance mostly like humans.

Question #7: Why did the monster population experience a drop?

Answer #7: *cuz of the conflicts, duh.

Question #8: Finally, what is the main idea of the passage?  
Answer #8: *that whoever wrote this has a lot, lot more work to do.


	7. Chapter 7

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

13 October 2014

*so i wake up in the middle of the night. happens all the time, don't worry 'bout it. guess it started when the resets did. normally, nights like this go like this: i want to rest, an' my mind says "yes", but my body says, "no", an' here i am. happens durin' the daytime, too, when i'm not thinkin' of what the humans are gonna do next. an' that sticks in my brain a lot.

*heh heh. now you know why i sleep in your class.

*that was a compliment, silly. you're welcome.

*the clock says 1:05, an' just like that, it's already tuesday. so i flip out one of my books. somethin' borin'. tends to calm me down when it's stuff like that. it says some drabble 'bout "photons" an' "working energy" when i should really be knowin' this stuff, so i slam it shut, an' i just sit there for 'bout two minutes before noticing something that wasn't there before.

*quiet.

*yeah, i know. shocking, huh? you'd usually expect someone like my dad to say somethin' like this. sheesh. but nope. it's me.

*alright. here's the scoop.

*usually, when i wake up like this, i can hear a creakin' above me. i know it's dad, doin' whatever he needs to do. i have a popcorn ceilin', so some of the paint gets into my eyes. then i either hafta wash it out or sleep the rest of the night on my belly, face to the pillow. the noise sticks 'round for a few hours, sticks 'round after i try an' fall asleep again before the next morning.

* might be why dad loves coffee so much.

*but here, now, it's… nothin'. no creaks, no noises, no nothin'.

*heh. my peepers are safe.

*but don't get me wrong. this has happened a few times. only a few, but what the hay. somethin' mighta wiped 'im out. he mighta had an extra frustratin' experiment to do. I know how it is. the variables won't line up an' the methods won't work an' it's just a big mess. he mighta had to drive a whole long way to work. or he mighta had to listen to five-minute ads before he could press the "skip ad" button. that's pretty exhaustin' right there.

*so i'm 'bout to try an' fall asleep again, but somethin' pops up in my noggin. heh. thought that conked out a long time ago, but oh well.

*writin' a book mighta wiped him out.

*writin' this journal is...heh...more exhaustin' than anythin'. that could just be 'cuz i'm lazy. but somewhere, i gotta feelin' that it's somethin' else. i dunno what it is. but i have a feelin' that it's the same thing that keeps me goin'. weird, ain't it?

*anyhow...

*so, you know my shortcuts, right?

*well, whenever i make them, there's an obnoxious whooshing noise, like i'm the wind or somethin'.

*so i stuff a pillow up my hoodie, an' i have to light up my eye for a sec just so i can look at the mirror an' laugh a bit at how i look like a beached whale who ate a pack of marshmallows.

*but i make a second noise, too, when this stuff happens. a FWUMPing noise that comes when my eye does it. so i put both hands on it, an' it burns, an' it feels like my hands are gettin' fried like chicken nuggets, but i don't care, 'cuz in a jiffy, i'm already up the stairs an' in my dad's bedroom.

*dad's sleepin'. covers on 'im an' everythin'. i light up my eye again, an' i adjust my hand so just a little light peeks out. y'know, like a flashlight.

*after a quick once-over on the desk, i notice there's no purple on it. or anythin' close to purple, since all of the blue lights tend to shake things up a bit in terms of color. i look on the nightstand, an' no book there either. huh.

*but his hand is.

*so i have another trick on my sleeve.

*y'know how i can make objects move without touchin' 'em, usin' just my brains an' bones? well, if i try hard enough, just hard enough, i can do that too.

*there are quite a few caveats, though. i mean, i can only fly six inches offfa the ground.

*god. the f girls would eat me alive if they ever got ahold of this.

*so i'm right there, my nose almost scrapin' against the ground, an' there, with my eye on an' my hand barely over it, i can still see it. right under his pillow.

*it's purple. it's book sized.

*take a wild guess at what that is.

*so i reach up to the bed. i feel like i'm in some sort of horror movie, but i wanna see what's eatin' dad up. what's makin' 'im so tired. what's pullin' 'im away from us.

*an' most of all, what's pullin' 'im away from paps.

*okay. i've got this.

*so you know how you're goin' towards a table, an' the table's all waitin' for you, an' then you're about to show someone this cool trick 'bout you pullin' up the tablecloth so fast that everythin' on the table will stay?

*well, that's essentially what i did with dad.

*except, um, all of the cups' an' plates on the table shattered a little.

*an' just when i pull it out an' my dad's head an' pillow slam back against the bed, i shortcut my way backdownstairs.

*my nose never touches the ground.

…

*"Deltarune." what the heck does that mean?

*it looks like your standard book, except for the fact that it looks like it was smeared right on toriel's an' frisk's walls. it's all sewn together just like any other book. no lines on the paper, either. just a slab of slightly yellowed paper, like the sun shone on it way too much. why my dad tried to be this avant-garde, i don't know. that's just my dad, i guess.

*so i open it.

*what the-

*one of the first things i notice about it is how hard it was pressed down. like dad just wanted to squeeze the heck outta his ol' pen just so he can get another one. i can tell he didn't bother writing on the other side of the page because if he did, it would just be a big ol' grand slam of a ton of black ink, an' that wouldn't solve anythin'.

*but what's in the book is… real troublin'. real troublin'. looks like he wrote this yesterday- no, wait, two days ago, it's still 1 in the morning, but the word choice makes it looks like it's, heh, written hundreds of years ago.

*"ONCE, THERE WAS A HUMAN NAMED KRIS. THEY LIVED IN A PLACE UP IN THE SURFACE, WHERE ALL WAS PEACEFUL. WHILE THE MONSTERS WERE VERY MUCH SEPARATED FROM THE HUMANS, KRIS AND THE OTHER MONSTERS LIVED SIDE BY SIDE. KRIS' CAREGIVER WAS NAMED TORIEL, AND WHILE ASRIEL HAD GONE OFF TO UNIVERSITY, KRIS WAS STILL TORIEL'S CONSTANT COMPANION. HOWEVER, DESPITE HIS CHILDHOOD, HE HAD NO ACCOMPLISHMENTS SAVE FOR ONE. HE CAME TO REALIZE THIS ONE TRUTH…

...YOUR CHOICES DO NOT MATTER IN THIS WORLD."

*what in the-?!

….

*holy crap.

*holy crap.

*holy crap.

*what is WRONG with my dad?

*he's…. he's gotta get some sort of help!

*what is wrong with him?

*holy crap.

*holy crap.

*holy-

….

*so i kept reading.

*figures.

*trust me, it gets a lot saner. not less weird. saner. there's a difference. "weird" is your neighbor spendin' all day outside, waterin' a huge garden or somethin'. but "insane" is when the same dude spends all day lookin' at you. just lookin' at you, like you're some sort of prey an' he's a hungry hyena.

*so it evolves to stuff like, "KRIS LOOKED AT THE WIND. HE TASTED SOME SORT OF PREMONITION, BUT SUSIE'S FACE WAS STILL PRESSED ON THE SCHOOL WINDOW."

*so after that, kris falls down this weird portal at school with this chick named susie, who i think is a crocodile or somethin' at this point. an' afterwards, they meet this one person named ralsei (who very weirdly is an anagram for "asriel", an' i'm gonna say it again, what the heck has my dad gotten into), an' then there's this other kid named lancer.

*'xcept the thing about lancer is… he's kinda familiar.

*i dunno. somethin' 'bout the smile. somethin' bout the bike. somethin' 'bout the way he's a little kid. makes me think my dad wrote 'im after me. but then again, that still doesn't explain whatever the heck he got his inspiration for susie or ralsei or any of those clowns.

*so the story kinda ends there so far. it's a bit long, twenty or somethin' pages. better than i could eer do.

*i have nothin' else to do. so i decide to write my own scne. maybe i can just show dad that i've gotten in here, that i know what he's doin', that i want him to stop. but while that idea comes ragin' for a few minutes, it kinda dies off, an' i'm reduced to just tuckin' it in, hopin' he won't see. but i think i can at least make the scene decent, make it somewhat shocking. make it about some sort of shindig. so i start off with that. but i end with kinda sorta maybe a big huge procession with fanfare an' me tumblin' down from the sky to greet lancer, announcin' myself as the "son of god." or at least the son of this world's god. which would be dad in this case.

*it's two am.

*i honestly didn't know how it mounted to this.

*but what the hay. i shortcut my way back upstairs again, put it back on the desk 'cuz i'm too much of a pansy to put it back under his pillow. maybe dad will dismiss it. maybe he'll go, "I'M GETTING MUCH TOO OLD" before writing down more of the story. an' by the time i shortcut back down, i'm way too tired to care, way too tired to share any more, an' i plop down.

*thank god my body let me rest this easy.

….

*i'm up at the top of the tower. someone holds me up. i can see the tiles. my leg is paralyzed. the thunder gets louder.

*i know where this is. i've been here before. i must have. i've been here since i was four. before the resets began.

*i tried, tried to desperately, to fight 'im off. gaster blasters. bones. maybe even some "crouching tiger, hidden dragon" drama. but none of it works, i swear.

*so he puts me out a bit farther.

*oh god, not again not again not again not again not again this always happens not again not again not again-

*this time, my ribs hit the tiles.

*it hurts so much i can taste my own spinal fluid.

*an' i've been in enough fights in the judgement hall to know how that tastes.

…

*so i sit up. i'm a mess. all gaspin', pantin', sittin' up all of a sudden, so sudden that i feel like i'm poor lil' regan in "the exorcist". i'm trying to see if my ribs are all there, countin' up to fourteen, onetwothreefourfivesixseveneight- an' so on, an' i'm fine.

*i'm fine.

*but just in case, i walk around the kitchen. try to have a lil' snack. i still go in the fridge no matter how much the lights hurt my eyes.

*while i'm eatin', it's like i forgot it. an' i'm wonderin', "hey, why does fridge have the letter d but refrigerator doesn't?"

*but it only takes me a few minutes to realize that i can still remember it. that it didn't just vanish.

*an' i glance at the clock.

*3:22 am.

*heh.

*figures.

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

January 16th, 2019

Directions: Read the directions carefully and answer the questions that follow. Incorrectness rules still apply, including failure to comply with certain statements and grammar mistakes.

Your Last Grade: 60%

Worksheet #4 out of 10

"OUR HISTORY- HUMANS AND MONSTERS"

Around 10,000 B.C., monsters began to use pottery as storage vessels, after thousands of years of humans making this revelation. Monsters, behind the humans as per the norm, discovered that the farther north or south one moved, the more extreme the climate would get. This spread them farther and farther, like a disease or a wildfire, both of which are destructive and bring nothing beneficial to our country. This promise fell flat, as for the most part, monsters were still very much scattered across the Earth. They made the treacherous discovery that farming was more effective than hunting and gathering, and while they still were in clans and were nomadic, their population experienced a bump, putting the humans in unspeakable danger. But in 10,000 B.C., humans figured out how to defend themselves in the divine art of war. The first wars against monsters broke out, and while in terms of fighting, monsters proved to be terrifying foes, they often died at a mere fraction of what it would take to kill humans, proving that humans truly were the strongest of the two species. This was one of the most important, and the most beneficent, discoveries that humans and monsters would ever make. The monster's population rightly suffered, and it no longer became stable. Even now, they have not been able to achieve stability, the final stand from humans still taking a toll on monster population today. But starting in 10,000 B.C., the monster population was stuck in complete fluctuation. Humans even developed the noble idea of domesticating monsters and subduing them to their rightful place, but this idea was tragically crushed.

In 7,000 B.C., a few monsters began to pick up on the practice of ancestor worship, a pagan and abhorrent practice. In a stroke of miraculous luck, it was only used for secular purposes, such as blessing crops for the next harvest, instead of it originating from deep inside monsters' SOULs. This kept them from making the precarious discovery of their own SOULs, keeping the humans safe.

In 5,000 B.C., monsters, for the most part, stopped evolving from their brutish natures, and looked very much what they look like now. But their intelligence increased, as slight as it was. Its progress was slow and spotty, and by the time Christianity came about, their intelligence was about the same level as humans', although the monsters do not often display this today. But the last of their actions was more treacherous than anything they had managed before: they stopped becoming nomadic. They learned how to build permanent houses, establishing their own towns and eventually, cities. These cities would triumph over the world, oppressing the humans, until in the medieval era, they were finally sent down to their rightful places. This will be discussed in a future article.

Question #1: Why would the discovery of farming be described as "treacherous"? Synonyms for "treacherous" include "hazardous", "perilous", and "risky".

Answer #1: *'cuz the humans were scared at the time that monsters would take over everythin'. an' farmin' would let the monsters have a high enough population to keep goin'. so there y'have it.

Question #2: What groundbreaking discovery did monsters make that proved them inutile in battle?

Answer #2: *we're kinda weak in terms of hp an' all. but mother nature tends to balance things out, accordin' to this story.

Question #3: What discovery did monsters make that led them to scatter across the Earth?

Answer #3: *the farther north you get, the colder it gets. the farther south you get, the hotter it gets. that's at least in the northern hemisphere, anyway. it's opposite in the southern one.

Question #4: Provide at least three synonyms for "unspeakable".

Answer #4: *"indescribable", "inexpressible", an' "unutterable".

Question #5: What form of religion did the monsters take up first in history?

Answer #5: *ancestor worship.

Question #6: Some monsters still practice burying loved ones under trees, adhering to the principle that some types of dust aid in the tree's growth. However, some monsters also attend Mass where they can wriggle themselves in. Using this information, what type of religion do the monsters undertake now vs the religion they claim to be practicing under?

Answer #6: *based on the info, i'd say they were pagan, but they were also christian. i would say more about what buryin' monsters is really like, but i want my diploma, don't i?

Question #7: If a monster from 4,882 B.C. met a monster in one of our schools, what would be most remarkable about it? What about its features would shock you the most?

Answer #7: *it looks just like me. assuming it was a skeleton, that is.

Question #8: In the future, what can you predict that the humans will do in response to the current oppression they are facing from monsters today?

Answer #8: *keep on oppresin' 'em right back. it's what they're good at.

*hey. even the article says so. they put up a good fight, didn't they?

*didn't they?


	8. Chapter 8

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

18 December 2014

*look. i haven't wrote a lot. i know.

*in fact, i haven't written at all since october.

*no assignments since then, though. thank god. that was more sickenin' than anythin'.

*but sometimes we need to stop writin' a bit. i mean, i hope my dad would stop writin' a bit. "deltarune"'s exploded to ten thousand words. kris is gettin' not beaten up, susie is beatin' up strangers, lancer is gettin' beaten up by his dad, an' i'm tryin' to comfort him so no one gets beatin' up. anyways, i hope my dad would stop writin' a bit. then my bro would be happier. then i would be at least a little happier. but mostly 'cuz my bro would be happier.

*y'know what i'm sayin'?

*anyway, it's almost christmas now, so i'm pretty pumped. there's snow scattered across the ground at this point, an' there are a few sticks of grass still pointin' out, but i'm still takin' a hit for it. still sleepin' more. still eatin' more. still takin' in a lot more, an' not givin' anythin' back. not really doin' anything.

*still, none of the little discrimination problems we had got any worse. still the same ol' trailers, still the same ol' "we're allowed in school when class isn't happening because you all need lunch, right? or do monsters even eat?" policy. some of my friends put on some big christmas decorations. we started off with some "stringers". streamers is too fancy for what we did. we cut out some pieces out of construction paper an' all of that durin' study hall. we were kinda proud of it an' all. an' there was a little fuzzy feelin' that came to me, but i managed to push it right back down. y'know?

*that was until some jerk seniors showed up an' pulled the stringers down in "one fell swoop", as my english teacher would call it.

*eh, who needed that anyway? it woulda clashed with the walls.

*anyways, i was goin' to take a shortcut home, but then my pocket started explodin' with buzzes. at first, i thought it was just a joke from faun- god, she loves her phone- but when i saw it was dad, that got me sittin' at the front bench 'till four o'clock came. least faun an' nacarat did end up stayin'. we all started jokin' around at the little couple-esque relationships the seniors were havin' an' the way one of them bumped against one of the lockers while kissin' up one of his girlfriends. that's right, i said one of his girlfriends. that got me laughin' in a messed up way. but that was alright, 'cuz we were all laughin' like that. an' for a sec, i forgot there was a reset that might happen.

*friendship, amiright?

*finally, the red lil' tahoe came up. there was a little face in the back, although i couldn't quite tell who it was. pretty darn human, though. skin darker than ours, all peach-n'-caramel colored instead of frickin' snow. i'm startin' to question what the heck is goin' on here,

*so i says, "hey, guys, what the heck is goin' on here?' an' they reply, "It's your dad, you have to go there no matter what's going on," and i'm there in a few seconds without teleporting even once.

*dad's got this wide-eyed look on his face, like he's a small, furry lil' animal on one of those nature shows, an' a lion is pouncin' up right behind him. claws, all big an' sharp-

*"dad? what the-"

*"I DON'T HAVE TIME TO EXPLAIN AT THE MOMENT, SON. PLEASE COME IN. IT'S FREEZING, AND I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOU GETTING TOO COLD."

*paps is there too. he's in the back, all scared. frisk is starin' out the window, an' as soon as paps starts cryin', i don't hesitate gettin' in there.

*so we go off on the road. i'm just sittin' there, an' paps is lettin' me hug 'im this time. i give 'im little pats on the shoulder, just like we did when the both of us were kids. he stops shakin', at least, but he doesn't stop cryin'. not by a long shot. the road blows by us, past all the places i thought we were goin'. the police office. boom. right by. undyne's house. boom. right by. the library, even. boom. right by.

*our house comes up right on the corner.

*as we're all haulin' our butts outta there, frisk kinda looks a bit to the left, an' then they start joinin' in the cryin'. at first, i'm a bit convinced to join in, but screw that. i don't even know what we're cryin' about, an' a part of me doesn't really wanna find out, y'know?

*soon as we're in, a breeze blows in. chills me to the bone, if you wanna go in that direction. soon as gaster comes in the door an' there's no one by the tahoe again, i shut the door. by the time that's over with, gaster an' the rest of us are over at the table. frisk is beside themselves in the livin' room.

*an' that's when the judge part of me starts kickin' in. i know it is. an' i know it won't leave. but i ask the question, just in case. but i've got a horrible feelin', a feelin' that makes me sick to the stomach. even sicker than the questions i had to answer a few months earlier.

*still, i ask it.

*"what's goin' on? shouldn't we tell toriel or someone about all of this?"

*an' dad stops lookin' at me an' stops lookin' at his hands.

*an' i know then that we'd never see toriel again.

….

*look. i didn't cry about it. we weren't close at all. she barely knew who the heck i was,, even if the f girls are capitalizin' on it nonstop.

*psychos.

*but the next day, after i put on a real expensive suit with a real tie an' everythin' the next morning, i find out what it was. a heart attack. a big, huge one, at that. an' from the look of it, it seems her brain was involved in it, too. twitchin', like she was havin' a seizure. i'd be lyin' if i said that i didn't see it comin'.

*frisk is still sittin' at the kitchen table. fiddlin' at their waffles, an' i guess the rest of us are too.

*for once, dad seems to read my mind. he sits at the table, sips his coffee. his scientific part of him kicks in. "I'VE ALREADY GONE THROUGH ALL OF THE PAPERWORK, AND I AM CURRENTLY ATTEMPTING TO HIRE AN ATTORNEY. BY AND LARGE, IT'S A MAGNIFICENT ORDEAL, BUT BECAUSE THEIR BIOLOGICAL PARENTS WERE DEEMED UNFIT FOR THEM, AND ASRIEL'S STILL TWENTY, TOO YOUNG TO TAKE CUSTODY OF THEM, AND THE REST OF THEIR FAMILY IS SIMPLY UNKNOWN…"  
*i nod. put another waffle in the toaster. still thinkin' 'bout how different everythin' will be from now on.

*... THEY WILL BE RESIDING WITH US INDEFINITELY."

*i cough. some of my waffle i'm already eatin' comes out a frothy mess on the plate.

*this is how i know things have gotten out of hand. my head starts to weigh a million pounds, an' i've gotta set it on my hand before it crushes me. feign a nap; why not? everythin's kinda a blur.

*sure, i've gone to the surface about ten times in the resets. moved into this house seven of them. had dad buy the car five of them. made the same friends three of them. had toriel die in two of them. heck, even had all of the discrimination happen once. but not this. never this. neverthis, neverthis, neverthis, neverthisneverthisneverthis-

*screw the waffle. i'm about to throw it up.

*"sorry, what?"  
*"I KNOW THIS MAY BE A SHOCK. AND IT WILL CONTINUE TO BE A SHOCK FOR ALL OF US HERE. I'M SURE THAT-"

*oh, god.

*"dad, i-"

*i need to think, dad. i need to think. how do i phrase this, all of this? my stomach's all discombobulated, an' my brain's gettin' that way fast. i need to think. c'mon, think, sans. they still might reset, though. they still might-

*"dad. i'm not sure if we can take care of them, 'cuz at any moment, they just might up an'-"

*they stop cryin' for a few seconds an' glare at me.

*oh god, oh god.

*think, think, think, think, think, thinkthinkthink-

*"at any moment, they just might up an' get nabbed by some other humies because they're with us. the world isn't safe. at least that's what i've come to hear of it."

*dad pauses for a few moments. thinks in his funny little scientific way, with his imaginary hair all crazy an' roamin' this way an' that. frisk's cryin' again, more than i would've expected. paps gets a blanket for 'em, an' i can't help but smile a bit as frisk pats paps on the back.

*"WE'LL TALK ABOUT THIS LATER, ALRIGHT? BUT FOR NOW, WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE."

…

*look, mr. moran. i'm not gonna bore you with the details on the funeral an' all. dad was all dad-ish, whisperin' a few mini- lessons to paps while bein' all serious. by the time they'd gotten outta the church gathered by the tree, said all the requiem prayers (i still get chills with dies irae when they mention "quando iudex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus"), an' started to lay the lil' jar under, i take a look around. poor asgore's sittin' in the back, just starin' at the floor. just starin', an' he looks like ths sort of empty that i shudder whenever i sink down to. faun an' nacarat are here, probably 'cuz they heard we were comin'. i can see asriel's face, all shakin' like a leaf an' a cryin' mess, on an ipad on one of the front row seats. an' frisk is…

*wait, frisk is somewhere else.

*eh… maybe the bathroom or somethin'.

*so i wait 'till they finish the dies irae an' start the prayer of commendation before i set off.

*asgore doesn't even look at me.

*no sense doin' shortcuts now. not when i don't know where frisk is.

*i don't start callin' out, "frisk! frisk!" they way i would've if i was in a movie or somethin'. i take a look at all the normal places- the bathroom (okay, might not have been the smartest idea), the snack bar, anythin' where i would've headed if i might be frisk.

*then there's the woods next to the parkin' lot.

*what the hay. i go there. mostly 'cuz i need a break myself. if they're goin' to reset, anyway, what's the big deal about funerals? what's the big deal with death?

*what's the big deal with life?

*...

*ah, jeez.

*so i take a lil' break over by one of the nicer lookin' clearin's, not littered with trash or anti-monster stuff. there's a paper towel, all dirt-an'-crap-an'-a-tad-of-snow covered, here an' there, but beggars can't be choosers, amiright?

**so i sit down, right? wait a few seconds. look at the bark of some of the trees in front of me. wonder if this is really right. if this really is all unique.

*if it's really worth goin' on like this or-

*"HELLO."

*so i jump back. it's frisk, but it's undeniably loud. still frisk. still high-pitched, like a kids' voice is. somewhat. alright. not very high-pitched at all. but still frisk.

*"woah, jeez, kid, you gave me a scare or-"

*wait, what?

*alright. i know my brain's all messed up 'cuz of the resets. an' i know when your brain's messed up, all sad an' not wantin' to sleep or eat, you start to see things sometimes. but this is… somethin' else. it's like i can almost feel frisk's feet off the ground. two inches like i was. or something like tha-

*no. no. no. this has gotta be a hallucination. somethin' that's a byproduct of my brain, not wanting any more resets. not wanting it so bad that it makes… THIS.

*'cuz frisk ain't lookin' at me, that's for certain.

*they're lookin' at the huge box right in front of 'em with two big, huge, ugly choices on it.

*continue.

*reset.

*i knew it. i knew it all. this always happens. i know it can't last. i mean, i'm too lazy. i don't do anythin', really. i don't do anythin' to deserve it all movin' forward, y'know? an' at least toriel will still be alive. that's while they're doin' it, right? forget the hallucinations. that's probably my brain, all confused. forget it all. forget it all. forget it all. toriel will still be alive, alive, alive, alive, alive, alive, ALIVE, i want to LIVE, i want to LIVE, really LIVE-

*there's a shattering sound.

*when i look back to frisk, their feet are back on the ground. they're bleedin' somewhat, an' they're starin' down at their feet , eyes open like a toads. i'm not back at home.

*not back in snowdin. not back in snowdin. not back in snowdin.

*there are pieces of glass. shattered. everywhere.

*no more choices.

*only glass now.

*only glass.

*"frisk… did you… did you really…"

*they look at me, an' the smile is so wide on their faces, their eyes so big an' brown' an' wide now, an' i don't care, an' i'm rushin into their arms, an' i'm crying, the grass is greener now, it's rainin' on it even though there's no clouds in the sky, i'm cryin', i'm cryin', i can almost feel toriel smilin', but i'm sobbin' down here, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, i can sleep now, i can eat now, god, i can eat now! thank you, oh god, thank you, i'm cryin', all messy, all happy, happy, an' they're sayin' how it's okay, how it'll all be alright, an' i'm sayin' i know, i know, i know.

*i know.

*i know it'll be alright.

*thank you, thank you. more cryin'. i hear more pitter-patters, comin' up in a steady drumbeat up the woods, an' the parkin' lot comes back up in my memory from where it's gone so far before. thank you, thank you so much, thank you. i catch a little tear on my chin, an' i start laughin', laughin' like that stupid tear is the funniest thing in the world, even funnier than i am. thank you, thank you. paps comes up. doesn't even ask why i'm cryin', just says that toriel was the greatest mother in the world an' he just keeps on huggin' me, an' i just keep on cryin', an' cryin'. dad comes up an' says it's going to be alright, son, everyone has their own grieving process, an' i'm still cryin', an' i'm still cryin'.

*frisk can stay, for all i care.

*oh, god, can they stay.

…..

*i've stopped cryin'. but i'm still shakin'. i'm not sure if the shakin' will ever stop.

*college. marriage. i mean, maybe havin' my own kids. they have their own definitions now. death does, too. but what does that matter?

*what now?

*frisk tells me what now. they tell me, half screamin', hafl yellin'. the monster discrimination is escalatin', they say. it's bad, they say. extremely. dangerous, even.

*"i know," i say back to 'em. "i know. i've been through it. it's in school, remember? i've told you about this. remember all of the times i visited you an'..."

*an' i stop, 'cuz i know that frisk will cry. an' the last thing i want for them now is for them to cry. now when they've made me cry. all of my tears for today was enough. it was more than enough.

*but frisk keeps on sayin' how it's dangerous for monsters to be around now, that i need to get out right now or else my family will be even more in danger. i just smile an' laugh. "i know. i know all of this. everyone knows all of this. i want you stayin' with us more than anythin', but it'll be a wakeup call for you, y'know?"

*they keep on goin' on. but i just hug them. an' paps hops in the car an' asks if we can go to mcdonald's on such a sad day, what with me cryin' like this. he's the coolest dude in the world.

*it'll be a wakeup call for me.

*it already is.

*thank you.

*thank you, everyone. for everything.

*thank you, mr. moran. without you, no diploma for me.

*thank you, deus in caelo, if you exist at all. if you don't, well, then, thank you to the people who make sure you still kinda do. the people who are supposed to represent you while bein' decent people to us monsters.

*thank you.

*thank you.

*god, thank you.

Sans

Mr. Maron

Honors English 11-4

December 18th, 2014

"OUR HISTORY- HUMANS AND MONSTERS"

Worksheet 5/10

Your Last Grade: 95%

Directions: Read the passage carefully and answer the questions to the best of your ability. Incorrectness can be given out based on failure to comply with certain statements. Grammar and spelling will no longer be counted for incorrectness, so long as it is not excessive.

In 3500 B.C., monsters started to learn how to write with a brutishly simple writing system. They could now write books and send messages to one another. Over the next few thousand years- for that is the truly monstrous amount of time it took for them to complete this- their language would evolve from primitive, abhorrent vertical and horizontal lines to a slightly less Byronic system of runes. Although a few runes substituted from onomatopoeia or complex concepts such as death, marriage, grief, and joy, humans had far surpassed them at this point, countless civilizations achieving much more with their languages than monsters could ever hope to achieve.

In 3300 B.C., humans developed a divinely magnificent accomplishment, learning for themselves how to make bronze tools, which, again, caused the monster population to suffer greatly, as they so rightfully deserved. And now that humans learned the art of war, monsters had to be more careful. So they finally, with the utmost examples of brutal basicality, developed the idea of sending out the strongest monsters first instead of just sending out whatever monsters were available. The idea of training monsters for war also came into place, but since monsters are considered by monsters today (and they are quite obviously lacking in correctness) by nature are a peaceful species, the idea didn't gain much ground and was reserved for a few conflicted areas. However, in those conflicted areas, it flourished, and those areas practically never stopped fighting until after the event that would shape monsters' lives permanently.

In 2500 B.C., monsters finally picked up on the use of bronze. Paganism also spread, in its festering, religious nature, but only for practical purposes. They started their own calendar, one-fourth of the calendar for each season. In 0 AD, however, they would begin to borrow the Gregorian calendar, lacking the simple sagacity to create their own. Monsters also started to make their own paper, borrowing the word "Papyrus" from Egypt. According to legend, they misunderstood the word "papyrus" as the word "petbe", which means "retaliation." They kept this word in their hearts for millenia, and "papyrus" became a common given name, even a title. This massive, tail-chasing stupidity still extended to today. But one of the

*there's supposed to be more of the story here.

*there are questions here.

*if you're dyin' to know what happened next, then all you need to know is we switched from chief leaders to kings.

*but i ripped them out.

*every single question.

*i'm supposed to.

*if someone gives me guff 'bout my traditions, then let 'em have it. i want my diploma, now more than ever.

*but more importantly…

*probably most importantly...

*'no one makes fun of my brother.


	9. Chapter 9

Sans  
Mr. Moran  
Honors English 11-4  
February 26th, 2015  
*welp.  
*a lot's happened, i know. more than i wanna write. even more than the a lot that's happened since i last wrote in this thing.  
*i know you're probably wondering, "Wow, Sans! You have the reset button destroyed, you have Frisk with you, you have everything you could possibly need! Aren't you happy?"  
*i mean, yeah. i'm still seriously happy, don't get me wrong. i mean sometimes, when i wake up an' i get six hours of sleep instead of four, i can't help but smile for a few seconds. an' whenever i go to church (which at this point has separate pews, monsters all the way on the left, humans all the way on the right), the incense just smells a little better than i remember. an' when frisk does somethin' little like letting me take a shower first, i say more "thank you"s than it probably deserved.  
*but it works like a treadmill.  
*the speed slows down. at first, you think, "thank god. a break." an' you slow down, an' you feel great. but you start to get used to it, as sickenin' as it is. an' it gets harder to run. an' i'm not tryin' to be ungrateful, y'know? i mean, i still feel happy. you bet i do.  
*anyway…  
*christmas came an' went. i didn't ask for anythin' 'cuz of what frisk did, but dad bought me this real overpriced rubik's cube an' this one book 'bout how bein' a real man basically means bein' mature. an' paps gave me one of his red scarves. i tried to give it back, but he told me to keep it.  
*next day, it was gone an' back on paps, an' he was runnin' all over the house with it, all on his tiptoes.  
*he's the coolest.  
*valentines day was, in one word, sucky. the f girls came an' asked me to bome them, bone them, over an' over. took out a fun dip stick an' broke off some of the edges so it was bone shaped, then started lickin' it. strokin' it, too. i almost puked, an' my stomach didn't settle 'till i fell asleep that day. i would've taken a shortcut or somethin', but we were in some giant valentine's day pep talk/assembly. which was perfect.  
*but then someone half-barked, half muttered at 'em to get a life.  
*faun.  
*who woulda thought?  
*who woulda thought someone who goes on her phone every day before class, someone who changes boyfriends like she changes classes durin' the school day, woulda done that?  
*who woulda thought?  
*but whatever, right? you can't judge a person by what they do, right? my judging abilities aren't perfect, right? at least that's what they say.  
*so i said thanks to her. told 'er that i dunno how i would've gone through that day if it weren't for 'er. reached into my backpack, fussed around a bit, an' gave 'er one of my hershey's i'd won in a class game that day. she was kinda taken aback, so i stopped there. still pretty happy from all the resets. kinda freakin' people out, i guess. at this rate, i'm probably treatin' city rats like they're abraham frickin' lincoln. but still, i had to pat myself on the back, at least a little. i'd gotten through that day alright.  
*i mean, at least i thought i'd gone through that day alright.  
*an' i would've if i just shortcutted home that day like i do every day.  
*but that day i guess i was just swooped up, by, heh? what was it? "blind ambition"? somethin' i think frisk suffers in a bad way more than i do, an' somethin' i think paps suffers in a good way more than i do.  
*it was three o'clock. since it's february, it's the time right when the sun shines in my eye as it's settin', which i'm not used to since, welp, there WAS no sun in the mountain. an' i actually have somethin' to do today. no, not a pun contest. no, not a hotdog eatin' contest. no, not even a ketchup drinkin' contest.  
*it's a "future-planning" club. plannin' what, you ask? well, plannin'... everything. planning what i'm gonna do this year, what clubs i'm gonna join, plannin' what jobs i'm gonna get, what college i'm gonna get….  
*except this time, it's real.  
*the college, the class, the club, the school, everythin'...  
*it's real this time.  
*which is why i'm doin' it. which is why i wanna make somethin' out of what i've got. even if it's just a bit. even if i don't think i have nothin' to give in the first place. even if it's just havin' a job checkin' out groceries at the cash register an' goin' to a vocational school or somethin'. while i can, i still wanna make somethin'. at least somethin' outta this. as much as the humies will allow me to. i'm gonna go to the edges of the bos. an' then i'm gonna push it. or at least try to.  
*'cuz paps deserves it. 'cuz paps deserves everythin' i can give.  
*anyway…  
*so i reach into my locker. i think it's some sort of trick of the sunlight. it happens a lot. even when i'm supposed to be blind in the eye that's glowin', glowin', glowin', i still see the colors messed up a lil' when it glows. so i move away from the sunlight, an' it's still there. my locker looks all weird, an' there's red spots all across it, like grillbz walked past here this mornin' and had one of his ketchup bottles explode.  
*so i walk away for a bit. shortcut to the water fountain, say hi to some of my human friends i'm not quite sure their names are yet, shortcut back.  
*it's still there.  
*all of the red spots.  
*so i step back. an' i notice there's somethin' else on the locker, somethin' that all of the red dots are formin'.  
*the letter "M."  
*i'll let you take a wild guess at what that means. hint hint: it doesn't mean "human".  
*it's all across the locker, from top to bottom. some of the ceilin' is stained, too, which i'm sure the ol' janitor is sure to be ravin' about. so i take a sweep, but it's still my locker, locker 691, right next to the hallway, all different from the rest. all covered with it. the letter m, with a ring surroundin' it, almost like it's a messed-up sort of anarchy symbol. but that's not the worst part. that's not the part that really gets me.  
* in the corner, there's a signature, done by a brush an' not by whatever spray can the people used to do this. an' it's not even words. just one bone. a femur. followed by another "m", little this time, an' an "e" after it.  
*it's the f girls.  
*why did i ever think otherwise?  
*forget this.  
*i kick the locker, my foot phalanges hurtin' long before the locker would've started to dent, before i get all of my stuff out an' shortcut home to drop it off. i'm never gonna use that locker again.  
*an' i'm out before dad can even ask if i'm alright.

*so i have a dream, right? the fallin' dream again. i don't hit the ground this time, but instead, i'm just….floatin' a bit. an' then i see somethin' else. an academy. a lil' preschool. so i take a peek, the peter pan i am, an' all these lil' kids, humans, monsters, are all playin' along like normal. for a minute, i forget what school i'm in, i forget what's happenin;, i forget everythin' about it. it's like there's this mist all surroundin' me. i feel peaceful.  
*then i wake up.  
*so i go to school like usual. hug paps before i go like usual, promise dad that no, i won't fail any tests, an' no, i won't cause anyone to have lil' half-uman-half-monster kiddos. an' i head to my locker, just like usual. for a bit, it's almost like my dream.  
*but then there's crowds around it. first, it's a lil' thing, nothin' too much to worry about. but then, it starts to grow, starts to glow. no, literally. cellphones are flashin' everywhere, into my eyes, into the lil' slats in my locker where my gym clothes used to be, into the hallway where all the monsters are congregated. i join them, 'cuz what else am i supposed to do? use my powers to get everyone to quiet down an' then scare 'em off with a barrage of gaster blasters? (i could, but that would be too insane of me.)  
*we're all starin' at it. eyes wide. 'cuz we know this isn't the end of all of this.  
*it's just the beginnin'. it ain't gonna stop. an' it's somethin' we've all known since day one, but now, it's hit us like a tornado hittin' a trailer park in the deep south (as far as i've heard).  
*anna? she's just a mess. jaw droppin', nose flarin' harder than i've ever seen it before. like she smells carrots everywhere. our conversation goes somethin' like this:  
*"My God. My God, my God. I'm so sorry, Sans. If I knew this was coming, I-I would've done something, I would've made an essay, organized a protest… something. I don't know…"  
*"s'alright, anna. besides, i don't even hafta use my locker anymore, i can just bring all of my stuff to an' from school."  
*she looks at my locker like a real monster, not somethin' like us but somethin' that really wanted to hurt everyone an' had no reason to be alive, were to come out.  
*"No. No, I don't mean that."  
*she looks at it again like that, like the monster grew two times its size. like the monster is starin' his eye straight into mine.  
*but her own eyes start turnin' everywhere. all wild.  
*"Sans, look at the teachers."  
*mr. moran is probably chillin' in the teacher's lounge, 'cuz he's not here, that's for sure, but a few bigwigs, like principal miley an' vice principal fresno, are out here with their big pens, jottin' somethin' on their big clipboards. a few inches closer, an' i see two sentences:  
*"Implement human-monster identification system. Use locker design."  
*oh, jeez.  
*a humie doctor once said i didn't have any vasovagal problems (which are basically problems that'll have you go "whoops, i'm unconscious now" in two seconds flat), but they've gotta be wrong now.  
*so you guessed it. i have to steady myself against the wall to keep myself from fallin'. an' when that doesn't work an' i topple anyways like a jenga game played by two guys who failed tech class, i stretch out my left hand an' push myself back up using that. i'm not quite a damsel in distress.  
*anna doesn't quite rush over. she more like slightly-faster-than-ambles over. she asks me if i'm okay, but it's more like a mutter. an' a few seconds later, she goes off.  
*"Look. Call me a conspiracy theorist, but I think I've got something real now. I think they're starting something. I read the clipboard, too. And whatever they're starting, they're going off of your locker. Or whatever those frickin' f girls did to it. And by the look on their faces, they're starting something horrible."  
*i'm about to tell anna that she's gotta be wrong, that she's gotta be bluffin', until principal miley looks at me with a demented lil' twinkle in her eye, pointin' the end of her pen at me like i'm some sort of target before writin' again.  
*yeah, they're startin' somethin'.  
*an' it's somethin' i don't necessarily wanna be around to witness.  
Sans  
Mr. Moran  
Honors English 11-4  
Februrary 26th, 2015  
Worksheet 6 out of 10  
"OUR HISTORY- HUMANS AND MONSTERS"  
By 700 B.C., monsters began to have more clearly-defined territories which, despite the monsters' attempts to pawn it off as peaceful, did in fact instigate scores of conflicts across the world in the three hundred years it took to clearly define them.  
In 400 B.C, monsters finally began to acknowledge monotheism, but instead of evolving into Protestant belief, it mostly sprouted into deist religions that believed one god made them and nothing more. This locked access to their SOULs, which was a great military relief for the humans, The monsters, in their vague and unholy called their god equally vague and unholy names such as ¨The Guardian of All," "The Watcher Supreme," and "The Ultimate One." More wars began to break out, monsters barely able to hold on with their current strategy. In their ignorance, it took hundreds of years to form it, whereas humans would likely take only a moment. Even in the monster kingdom did stronger monsters realize the sheer frailty and dull-mindedness of monsters. For they started to betray the more fragile monsters, such as skeleton monsters. As such, in their cowardice, they retreated to live with lesser species with closer fragility to their own.  
By 100 B.C., every monster territory was unified, all of the humans in those territories mercilessly deported. In this painful method, humans knew for certain what the boundaries were. Stronger monsters asserted their dominance even further now, spending their free time guarding the gates against humans and once again deporting them, as brutal as the action is in our modern world, should humans come. Paganism, in its unholy inferno, rose in the monster world again because of the Roman Empire, the strongest empire known to man, influencing monster territories and often threatening them with loss of life, as the monsters deserve to be threatened with. This brute force would prove to be ineffective later, but it would take hundreds of years to do so.  
By 100 A.D., about sixty years after the death of Our Lord, news of Christianity spread across the monster kingdom, especially in Europe. However, in a move of idiocy that even outstrove the rest of their atrocities, the monsters were so stubbornly practical that their SOULs were still locked despite Christianity's triumph. Christianity could not be stopped. . However, the monsters knew from fighting the humans, who were much more passionate with their religion and overall rhetoric, that there are seven SOULs in existence: Determination, Bravery, Justice, KIndness, Patience, Integrity, and Perseverance.  
Starting 285 A.D., the monsters heard of Diocletian's persecution of Christians. Terrified, they went to territories away from Rome, such as England, Ireland, and France, fending off Romans when and if they came. Meanwhile, other monsters were taken back to Rome. Most perished because of their fragility and shock, but there were a select few who managed to breed, spreading as a cancer, and survive in Rome.

*i think i've gotten enough up my culata today. with my locker all messed up, an' this new policy showin' up…  
*i think i'll take the zero on this one, mr. moran.  
*sorry.


	10. Chapter 10

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

March 9th, 2015

*so y'know all that bull i said last time 'bout bein' a "treadmill" an' all of that?

*it's wrong. all wrong.

*'cuz today just might even be more special than the last. even if in the last one, i had a future.

*i woke up today. that alone's awesone. marked off "march 9th" from the calendar. went upstairs, an' the first thing i did was go into dad's room to see if the book was out.

*i shortcutted back into my room just like i did that other night, i did a look-see, an' the book was a third full. whether or not dad wants to make this thing all in this one book or if this is coming out in parts the way some tv shows do, i dunno. but a lot's happened. so far, lancer's discovered how much of a jerk his dad really is an' finds kris an' susie, an' wants to hang out with them an' become friends with 'em. an' i can dig that. i can really dig that. just wonderin' what type of inspiration my dad is rubbin' off of, though…

*anyway, i really wanted to blow off some steam, like i said earlier. so i flipped back. some of my papers had some red marks on it, an' i almost had a heart attack, thinkin' my dad had written for me to stop. but one more look, an' it was just a few splatters from one of his pens. phew. thank god.

*so i wrote. an' i wrote, an' i wrote from the hour i got up 'til everyone else wakes up, which, since it's 'bout one in the mornin', should be 'bout five hours. an' by the time it's time for everyone to get up, i'm still writin', an' i hear a creakin' above me. still writin', still writin', an' dad comes down the stairs, an' i can see his blue-an'-black striped sleep pants just before i shortcut my way upstairs an' put the book back. my heart's explodin' by now, so i sit down in dad's chair, thinkin' 'bout how much i need to get in shape. pe's alright, but maybe paps can be my runnin' buddy… paps… paps…

*paps.

*i almost shortcut from my chair, but i end up pushin' myself from it instead an' almost run to paps' room. b'sides, i can't head downstairs, anyway; my dad's already there, an' if i go back to my room, he may wonder where i went.

*i turn on the lights in paps' room, an' for the first time in a year, he starts squealin' for a second before he laughs.

*so i laugh, too. "y'know what day it is, right, bro?"

*he just keeps on laughin'. turns an' tosses the sheets a lil', so his toes poke out.

*so i keep on chucklin', an' pretend i'm dad, scoldin' 'im. "young man, if you don't get out of bed right this instant, i swear that i'm going to start with my big long speech about how thirteen years ago, i got a phone call from mom in the hospital that you were-"

*"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I'M UP! AND YOU'RE THE ONE WAKING ME THIS TIME? WELL, THEN, IT MUST BE MY BIRTHDAY!"

*so 'e does get up, an' i try an' give 'im a noogie, which i'd have to stand on my tippytoes to do if he were standin'. "you're darn right. now go get dressed while i go make you some pancakes."

*so he laughs some more, an' i give 'im one last thirteen-year-old high five before i go down the stairs.

*an' then i tell frisk that i have no idea how to make pancakes.

…

*so an hour later, i'm out the door, an' the pancakes in my bag are steamin' so hard i can use it as a makeshift glove, the cold not quite bein' over yet. the kids at the bus stop start givin' me a thumbs up, way high an' arched in the back, a sign that they're way too cold for the bus an' they want to go to school already. so it's a big chunk outta me, but i shortcut all of us to school while i'm squeezin' the life out of my pancakes here.

*i look around the hall. sure, faun an' nacarat are there, an' anna's probably already in the trailer with mr. heckwad hunter, but so are a bunch of people. the key word here bein' "people". i can recognize a few, but they start gatherin' around. more than usual. a crowd, pushin' me this way an' that, an' i try an' shortcut, but the bus stop already took a big chunk outta me. i try an' go left, towards my class, but a lot of them, almost all of 'em, are takin' the advantage that they're taller than me. so they kinda ignore me. toss me off to the wayside, y'know? so eventually, i'm forced into the office.

*good ol' principal miley again. she smiles, but it doesn't quite stretch all the way up to her eyes. i know that smile. it's the same smile i'm tryin' to get rid of ever since frisk destroyed that reset button. the crowd stops gettin' around me, but it's all pressed against the edges. they're all' movin' now, but there's still someone, somewhere, blockin' the entrance.

*i dunno what's goin' on until she gestures to a microphone. it's bolted to the table, which makes me think it might be connected to the pa system.

*"Oh, Sans! Hello, there." the smile's still on her face. wait 'till i wipe it off. "Be a dear and help me out with the announcements, alright?"

*she notices the little suspicious glare i'm tryin' to hide, an' she tries to make her smile wider. all we can do is try, i guess. "I'll boost your grade in English, if you like. Just do me this one little favor."

*i look back, an' it's like a hydra. two kids for every one blockin' the door i saw before. so i shrug, an' her smile fades just a little, an' she walks into another room an' gets a piece of paper. she gets right behind me, like i'm a human kid an' she's about to cut my hair or somethin', an' the bell rings. after about five minutes, the school gets dead quiet. eventually, anna notices me, an' her expression pops open like she's watchin' a horror movie, an' principal miley shoos her away. i try an' read the paper, but principal miley rips it away like she's tryin' to make a paper cut in my hand. "It's a surprise," she says in that sweet little sing-songy way that the counselors like to talk in.

*it's 8:00. class has just about started. the entire office is so quiet you could hear a piece of lint fall to the carpet.

*"Alright!" she announces, takin' her hand off of the paper. slowly this time. wouldn't want to give herself anythin' close to a papercut, eh?

* she goes right to my side, an' one of the sweet front desk ladies who looks like she shoulda retired at least eight years ago goes to the other. another smile is on her face, but as soon as i look at 'er, just a little, an' it goes right away, an' it starts to crinkle an' look like one of paps' pieces of spaghetti instead.

*so they tell me how to cue up the mic, since i'm "intelligent for a monster", an' i feel a lil' prick when i touch the mic head. stupid static electricity. i have a feelin' principal miller rigged it that way, though. i glare at her, but she asks me what's wrong an' i have to say "nothin'", 'cuz you can't put a woman in jail for static-shockin' you. though as i read the paper, i really, really wish you could.

*"um, students of springfield high school, uh, this is…"

*"Say your name!" principal miller half hisses. she smiles a bit again.

*"...sans here, an' this is an executive announcement from hampden county public schools that from now on, all children of extraordinary origin must report to the auditorium at exactly 9:15 a.m. today to be identified to improve school efficiency during special events. this identification will serve as a red card carried in student's wallets, bearing the uppercase letter 'm'- hey, hey, what the PIANO-"

*so i try to get away. to summon a bone, i dunno. to do somethin'. 'cuz they can't do this to us. they can't, they can't, they can't. so i try an' try to take a shortcut, but i just shake like i've been shocked again with more static electricity. heh. guess the shortcut i did this mornin' was a bit too much. so i put my head down just to be safe, an' principal miller just puts a hand on my shoulder an' says, "Watch your profanity, young man! I'll have to log that as an incident report."

*they keep me there 'till nine fifteen. an' until then, i'm tryin' to look around, see if there's somethin' i can do to get tge cream pie out of this chair so i don't have to be the bearer of bad news. but by the time i think i can tell 'em i've gotta go take a whiz, it's already nine fifteen, an' before principal miller can thank me, dash my piano back to the history trailer. anna's there, an' she's wonderin' how the heck they can do this an' i tell her i can't shortcut an' we both rave an' wonder 'bout what we're gonna do. then hunt comes, an' we pretty much can't do anythin' else other than go in the auditorium.

*an' when the letter m finally comes on, i feel like the m was a hydraulic press.

*yup. you guessed it.

*i feel crushed.

Sans

Mr. Moran

Honors English 11-4

March 9th, 2015

Worksheet 7 out of 10

"OUR HISTORY- HUMANS AND MONSTERS"

The monsters barely survived Rome until 313 A.D., when Christianity becomes the official religion of Rome. The Romans forced the monsters to practice Christianity, and did this in a most unholy manner from the unholiest of creatures to creatures that were even more so until the monsters' SOULs were finally revealed to the world. For the first time in history, the monsters discovered the shape of their SOULs- a white, upside-down SOUL, too fragile for human combat, as history made clear. All of the rest of the monsters had the same type of SOUL. This was an utter disappointment to the Romans, but they still vehemently allowed the monsters to spread Christianity across Europe. And thus, two cancers spread: the cancer of the old, ancient, pagan form of Christianity, and the second, greater cancer: the cancer of the monster race.

They met with their even more brutish peers in England, Ireland, and France, and spread the word. The monsters then become devout Catholics, assumed their truest and most infidelity-filled form, discovering the nature of their SOULs for the first time. To the Romans' great dismay, the monsters discovered powers given to them through intense channeling to their SOULs. Using these abhorrent powers, powers of magic and heretical paganism, they were able to fend off the Romans and anyone who opposes them, starting their own holocaustal, deadly, virus-like empire across Europe.

In 500 A.D., they started their southern conquests. From then until 700 A.D., they conquered the entirety of Morocco, Algeria, Liberia, and Egypt. They also conquered half of what we know as Saudi Arabia.

In 700 A.D., they started their eastern conquests. From then until 800 A.D., They conquered the rest of Europe to the east and a little of Russia, the temperatures being too harsh for any life, human or monster, to continue any further.

In 800 A.D., they started their northern conquests. From then until 950 A.D., they conquered Denmark and the lower half of Norway and Sweden. They also conquered Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia.

In 950 A.D., the monsters gain control of the astrolabe. They attempt to sail to the Western Hemisphere in order to convert them to Catholicism, but bad weather always strikes them down. But the invention of the astrolabe allows them to conquer areas they weren't able to reach before, such as Finland, the Faroe Islands, Iceland, and a half a dozen islands. The farthest west they ever reached, however, was Maderia. Now, the monster empire was sprawling across approximately 1/6th of Africa, 1/6th of Russia, and nearly all of Europe. While the monsters did have control over the Western Hemisphere, they were an extremely permissive empire, their kings acting very much as figureheads to humans and most of humans and monsters keeping to themselves, just as they had before the monster empire even began.

By 1100 A.D., the monsters erect beautiful religions monuments all across Europe, mostly of Mary, the Saints, and angels. Crowds of humans gather around it, but when they and the monsters meet, a conflict almost always results because of the sheer resentment between humans and monsters. The monsters then have to relocate the monuments to more monster-heavy areas, causing treasure troves of religious medieval art.

Question #1: List five synonyms for "relocate".

Answer #1: *budge, dislocate, disturb, move, remove.

Question #2: How did the monsters achieve their goals of seeing inside their SOULs?

Answer #2: *they started prayin'. prayin' a whole lot. it was cruel, but it made them see the inside of their SOULs. an' then, when the monsters were free, people started to see that prayin' was really beautiful an' that the romans had just forced 'em too. i'm not sayin' to try prayin' or anythin', but that's just how it worked for me. an', heh, you all are the tolerant ones. so far, you haven't tolerated my prayin', or anythin' close to it.

*but i can hope, can't i?

Question #3: What is an observation you can make based on the fact that the monsters began their colonization over humans?

Answer #3: *they were stronger in battle an' had better survival instincts. that's why.

Question #4: What are the parts of the word "conquest"? Make sure to provide the country and what the parts mean.

Answer #4: *well, it came from latin. since they were big on, y'know, conquering, they had to invent a word for it. the word was "conquirere", by the way. means, well, "to conquer." toldja they had to invent a word for it.

Question #5: Why is Europe, and most of Massachusetts, so heavily steeped in Catholicism?  
Answer #5: *you have the pope to thank for that, buddy.

*hey.

*thanks for not bein'... all the way biased, y'know?

*at the end there, you kinda backtracked for a bit.

*an' i know this might be some sort of accident, but i appreciate it.

*really.

*mr. moran, i dunno what you did to bribe 'im. you're probably sacrificin' your bonus right now, for all i know.

*but keep it up, alright?

*thanks.

*really.


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